


Killing Me Softly

by Looktotheedges



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bickering, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Femslash, Fluff, Humor, I have no idea, Legilimency (Harry Potter), Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Sharing a Bed, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:36:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 69,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27648985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Looktotheedges/pseuds/Looktotheedges
Summary: When Ginny gets hurt in a wronski feint gone wrong, Hermione is on hand to take her away from the swarming fans and straight to a quieter part of St Mungo's.Where the only mediwitch around is Narcissa Black. Healer and master legilimens.And apparently Hermione's thoughts are rather loud.Oops.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Narcissa Black Malfoy
Comments: 718
Kudos: 1198





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey folks! So my love for Narcissa wouldn't leave, and you guys seemed to love her just as much in the comments for TSAS, so....not quite the same character as in TSAS, but this is what I've ended up with. I'm just going with it for this, I have no idea where the story's going. Let's find out together!
> 
> Oh, and the timeline is pretty vague. It's some time after the war. Hermione isn't with Ron anymore. Yeah.

“Ouch! Well, looks like Jones has made a decision. Weasley is out. And here comes Morgan as replacement chaser. Bad luck for Weasley fans…”

“Hermione, I’m fine! How did you even get down here? And the game still has thirty minutes left!” Ginny’s whines, trying to sit up and wincing.

Hermione gives Ginny her most intimidating glare. Usually reserved for Harry when he’s about to do something extremely idiotic. Or Crookshanks when she finds him in the laundry basket.

“And you’ll take a bludger to the head in the next thirty seconds because you’re seeing double, so get away from that broom! They’ve already sent you off, and you can’t fool me, Ginny Weasley. I’m taking you to St Mungo’s, right now. No arguing.”

“At least let me watch the—”

Oh that's it, enough. “Petrificus totalus!”

Hermione ignores the murmuring crowd and just grabs the frozen witch’s arm, apparating them straight to St Mungo’s.

Huh. Well it’s remarkably empty for a Saturday. No one around…

Although she _had_ chosen a less well-known area of the hospital. She’s not looking for special treatment, but if any Harpy fans or journalists from the Prophet spot them it would be a nightmare!

She searches for the nearest sign. Now let’s see…magical maladies, no. Not a jinx or a hex. A wronski feint that lost the feint part and turned into a not so loving kiss with the ground. The crunch alone…

She shudders at the memory, and adjusts the witch’s frozen form in her grip. Maybe a featherlight charm wouldn’t be so—

“Miss…Granger?”

Oh.

Hermione slowly turns around. And swallows harshly. Narcissa Malfoy. Well, Black now. Black for a while, ever since the end of the…war.

Gods those eyes. She’d forgotten…she may have avoided that stare for quite some time. The expressionless face that just stood and watched whilst her sister…

The witch walks closer, heels tapping on the floor and gaze not wavering. “A Quidditch accident, I assume? And a petrificus totalus…your work? You should know better, Miss Granger. Interfering with someone’s magical core at a time of great stress can—”

Hermione snaps out of her stupor in righteous indignation. Of course she—

“I know that! I would never— but she’s so stubborn! Almost got back on the broom, and then who knows what would have happened. It was the best decision to make at the time. Of course I’ve read—”

Arched eyebrows slowly raise. Arms fold. “Yes. You have read the whole of the Hogwarts library and more besides. You know far more than I, a professional healer, when it comes to time-pressured decision making, I am sure. I shall leave you to it. It seems Miss Weasley is in…capable hands.”

And with that she turns on her heel, marching off down the corridor. How rude! And what about— “I didn’t know a mediwitch’s duty of care meant so little!” she calls after her.

Narcissa freezes.

And then slowly turns to face her once more. Oh dear.

The ice queen is coming back towards her. Steps fast and sharp, wand shooting from the sleeve of her healer’s robes. In an instant, a stretcher has been conjured as if from nowhere, and a force blasts Hermione back a few paces so that she loses her grip on Ginny.

Her is wand falls into her hand on instinct, a protego already shielding her from—

Nothing.

The stretcher is strapping itself to Ginny’s back, hovering in the air and then lying her down flat on her back. A chart appears, a quill already filling out various boxes as Narcissa flicks her wand once more in Ginny’s direction, different coloured lights emanating from different points on Ginny’s body. Mostly red and green.

Hermione steadies her breathing and walks closer. “Ms Black, I—”

And her voice is gone. A nonverbal silencio?! Argh, the witch is so—

Narcissa frowns down at the medical chart. “Rennervate,” she murmurs at Ginny, almost absentmindedly.

“Fucking hell! What the— Hermione! Mrs Mal— Black, what in the bloody hell is—arfglp.”

Soap suds begin to foam out of Ginny’s mouth.

Hermione carries on trying to fight the silencio. She’s normally decent enough at non-verbal spells, but this one isn’t budging. It’s quite impressive.

“Language, Miss Weasley. Although it appears your jaw is still intact. Teeth unbroken. No bruising or abrasions at all to the facial…no respiratory…Primary tests and observations all…although…”

She raises her eyes to Ginny’s. Who scowls. And then cringes back at the intensity of the stare, eyes widening.

“Oh. You’re a legilimens. Thought Draco was exaggerating about…uhh…mindreading.”

Narcissa’s lip twitches. “Just show me the memory, if you would. A lot more comfortable than if I pull it out of you.”

There’s a glint to her eyes. Hermione shivers. Legilimency? Natural, or…does it run in the family? What about— and how is she— the concentration to hover the stretcher, and the silencio, and—

“Miss Granger, if you would at least attempt to quieten your thoughts, it would be much appreciated. As you say, this takes much concentration,” Narcissa says, not tearing her eyes from Ginny’s.

Quieten her— _Then get out of my head! This is a violation of—_

A head snaps to face hers. Icy blue eyes…I _was nowhere near your head, Miss Granger. Believe me. I could have heard you from Hogwarts without even searching you out. Screaming your thoughts to the world_

_…Oh. How do I stop…shouting?_

No reply. Narcissa just bends to examine Ginny more closely, who is putting on a tough act but clearly in pain, clenching her teeth and looking paler by the second.

And then Narcissa abruptly wanders off down a corridor, the stretcher following behind her.

What the—

Hermione jogs along to catch up, finally managing to cancel the silencio on herself. “Is she alright? Where are you taking her? Does she need a specialist or—”

Ginny groans. “Hermione, I’m fine. Honest! Swear to Godric. My head didn’t even hit the ground, and I managed that cushioning spell you taught me so—”

“You didn’t. There was a crunch. I heard it.”

“Heard it? You were all the way across the—”

“Miss Granger is correct, Miss Weasley. A definite crunch. You were far too slow with the cushioning charm.”

Hermione almost bumps into Narcissa as she stops at a door, rapping on it sharply.

Did she just agree with her on something? Hermione turns to smile at Ginny smugly. Ginny just glares up at the ceiling, still stuck to the stretcher.

“Look, Mrs—”

“Ms Black.”

“ _Ms_ Black, can I at least sit up? You said yourself! No spinal injury—”

“No _detectable_ spinal injury, as of yet. Although if you keep wriggling, that may not be the case. Stay. Still.”

Narcissa hasn’t even turned around, still waiting patiently at the door. Ginny falls still and widens her eyes at Hermione. “How did she know?” she mouthes.

Hermione shrugs. And…was that a chuckle? Is Narcissa laughing at them?! How can she— don’t you need eye contact to—

“Screaming, Miss Granger,” Narcissa murmurs.

Oh.

And then shouts through the door. “And for Salazar’s sake, Podsley. What is taking so long? If you’ve attempted to peek at my research again then—”

A round faced, cheerful looking witch opens the door, grinning at Narcissa. “Course not. I learnt my lesson, Black. You know that. And Flipton still dives into the nearest supply cupboard whenever he sees you coming since I told them you were responsible for— oh. Patients. And what patients indeed! Hermione Granger, never thought I— you know I read your recent—”

Narcissa flicks her wand, and Podsley slides backward out of the doorway as though on invisible ice skates. “Yes, yes. We all saw it in the Prophet last week. Now if you would let us in and set up an examination table in the next room. Miss _Weasley_ is the patient here. And it’s the hounds…or rather bugs…at the Prophet that we are trying to avoid.”

Oh. That’s why they’re here? She’d thought—ah!

She scrambles out of the way as Ginny’s stretcher flies past her and through a door to an adjoining room. Podsley frowns at Narcissa. “And you’re handling it personally? Narcissa. I told you. You need to go home. Rest. You can’t avoid—”

Podsley’s mouth continues moving, but no words come out. Ah. Silencio.

Hermione turns to study Narcissa more closely. Rest?

Oh. Oh she does look rather tired now that…and her hair is coming undone at the back. She’s never seen the witch less than immaculate. What is—

Narcissa tuts. “I can handle a few broken bones, Podsley. Now, if you don’t mind, I’ll—”

Podsley shakes her head in exasperation, stomps over to the door that Ginny had disappeared through, and slams it behind them.

“Miss Granger, you’re bright. I’ll take care of Miss Weasley, you get that stubborn witch home and into bed. I’m begging you. I’ll pay you ten galleons at this rate, swear to Rowena!” she yells through the door.

Oh. Get her…into bed? Umm…

Oh dear.

Shit. Why does the witch have to be so attractive?

Certain images are flying though her mind. And she’s in a room with a legilimens. And apparently her brain shouts everything, and how do you stop shouting in your own head and oh no, the silence has lasted too long to be natural and—

Narcissa clears her throat. “Well. No need for…seeing as my _duty of care_ has been fulfilled, I’m sure we can both find our way home. To— my home— separate homes.”

Stuttering? Flustered? Narcissa Mal—Black?

Hermione smirks at the witch. If she has to be embarrassed, she’s at least going to let Narcissa wallow in it too. Serves her right for reading her—

Narcissa turns and groans at her, hands flying into the air in exasperation. “You are shouting! I can’t help but— and I am _not_ embarrassed. I am merely fatigued after— well, the reason is not important. Goodbye, Miss Granger.”

She storms out of the room, heels echoing down the corridor.

But she never answered—

_Am I still shouting? How wide is the radius? How are you hearing me without eye contact? How do I—_

_I will owl you a book. Read it. Until then, think softly, for the love of Merlin!_

Think softly?

Well, she’ll try.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back again! 
> 
> Can't promise daily updates for this, but seems like this weekend you're in luck, enjoy!

Hermione wakes up to Crookshanks leaping onto her face. In the dark. At six in the morning. On a Sunday.

So of course, as much as she loves her cat, Crookshanks is very quickly ejected out the back door.

And then an owl sails in from the dark and begins flapping around her kitchen. Hermione could scream.

She doesn’t. She takes a steadying breath, counts to five, and accios some owl treats from the cupboard. Sits down at the kitchen table and offers them up to the owl, detaching the parcel from its leg. It looks like a book, although she can’t remember ordering one. Which isn’t at all unusual for her, she often orders books and then forgets…

She still sends a few detection spells its way though, just to be safe. There are some crazy people out there, and being one of the golden trio attracts some…interesting characters.

But so far so good, no curses, dungbombs or love potions.

Oh.

_‘Management of the Many-Layered Mind: A Multifaceted Anatomization by Mabel Martingale’_

She hadn’t ordered that. Unless…did she seriously…

She opens up the front cover.

> _Screaming._

…Did Narcissa Black…just send her a book?

Well. Well that’s…

Something to think about at a more reasonable time of the morning. She might just be tired enough to fall back into bed before her brain—

No. Her brain already has a million questions. About mind magic, and if this is legilimency or occlumency. How loud is her mind screaming? Can all legilimens hear her, or just Narcissa? What can she hear? Can she hear her now? How far away— Malfoy Manor is at least half an hour away by car. Can she ‘hear’ that far? Or is she exaggerating? It _has_ only been a few months since Hermione moved to Wiltshire, is that why Narcissa is tired? Hermione’s been shouting her thoughts at her across the countryside all night?

Oh no. She can hear her thoughts at night? Even...personal thoughts?

No. No, she can’t hear from that far. That’s ridiculous. She’s never heard of a legilimens that powerful. She must mean she was screaming _yesterday._

But…

Oh she’s so curious.

Oh! That’s it! She can go and see Ginny in St Mungo’s before she’s discharged, and just ‘accidentally’ run into Narci…

No. She’ll read your mind and know it was on purpose. That would be embarrass—

Hermione smacks herself in the forehead. And then sighs at the owl. “I’m an idiot. I can just write back. That would be normal, right? Thank her for the gift and…invite her to coffee to say thank you! Then I can talk to her properly and— just stay there!”

The owl just blinks at her. Right.

She runs into her study for some parchment.

Her most expensive parchment. This is Narcissa Black, after all.

* * *

“George if that chocolate has anything hidden away in it then—”

“Honestly mum, who do you take me for—

“— and then Morgan somehow managed to knock the bat out of their hand, it was incredible. You should have—”

“—since you were three years old and—”

“—not too bad once you get used to the taste. And it seems Healer Podsley was a lot better than Lockhart. Weird to think he’s around here somewhere. I wonder if he—”

“Excuse me!” comes a shout from the doorway.

Everyone turns to look.

Podsley clears her throat. “Right. Sorry to be all Madam Pomfrey about it, but you’re all being far too loud. Patients are trying to rest. Miss Weasley still has to wait for her test results to come in before she can be released, so she can choose _one_ person to stay with her.”

Ginny looks around at the heads crowded around her. Ron reaching for her chocolates. Her mum already fussing with the blankets. George covering up a grin.

“I choose Harry.”

Harry looks up in surprise from where he’d been moving the chocolate out of Ron’s reach, and multiple disbelieving scoffs fill the room.

“Come on, Gin,” Ron whines. “At least let me—”

“Now Ron, leave them be. Let’s leave them to…be alone. Talk things through. They might—”

Ginny rolls her eyes. “Still not getting back together, Mum. Just friends.”

Mrs Weasley humphs, and then begins corralling various Weasleys out of the room. An unfortunate red-haired bystander gets caught up in the crowd, but they obviously sense the uncomfortable atmosphere and decide not to mention it.

Ginny collapses back on the pillow. “Ugh. Can’t believe she hasn’t got over it after six bloody years.”

Harry doesn’t answer. He’s looking across the room and laughing softly.

Ginny frowns. “Wha—”

Hermione has been left behind. Nose buried in a book, and completely oblivious to the outside world.

Ginny shakes her head in fond exasperation. “Never changes, does she? Hermione!” she shouts. “Hello?”

* * *

“…mione?”

Huh?

Hermione looks up from her book. Oh. When did the Weasleys leave?

She smiles at Ginny and walks over. “Sorry. This new book is fascinating. I had no idea that the mind had so many layers.”

Harry snorts. “Well I did. Snape gave me one of his _subtle art_ speeches about it. Shame he never actually got around to explaining what legilimency _was,_ just that it _wasn’t_ mind reading. And then stabbed on into my head.”

Yes, the more she reads about it, the more she’s sure that was _not_ the best approach. To teaching _or_ legilimency.

Ginny shifts up in the bed to make some room for them to sit down. “Good old Snape. So subtle and mysterious. When he wasn’t glaring holes in your head.”

Hermione perches on the edge of the bed, and Harry casts some detection spells on the chocolates before opening them for them all to share. “George might have done something unnoticeable to these, but we’re already in a hospital so…”

Ginny shrugs and eats one. “Yeah, you’d drive yourself nuts if you got paranoid about everything George doe— Hermione! Seriously? You’re such a bookworm. Put it down before we lose you again!”

Hermione looks up from her book guiltily. “Sorry. It’s just there’s a bit of a deadline before— uhh— I mean, this could be extremely useful…”

Harry and Ginny share a look. And then Ginny nods. “Her lying face. She’s hiding something.”

What?! She doesn’t ha— “I don’t have a lying face! And I’m not lying! This book really is very useful and interesting and—”

“—And you have not yet finished it, have you, Miss Granger?”

Oh no.

Hermione looks over to the doorway, clearing her throat and trying to appear as relaxed as possible. This isn’t strange. Narcissa works here. And it’s perfectly acceptable to thank someone for— oh shoot, look away, quieten your thoughts.

She looks down at the bed. Okay umm, think of the layers, blur them. Add some…insulation.

And she turns back to the witch in the doorway. She still looks tired…is she alright? She’s not sick, is she? Did she go to bed or— the owl arrived ridiculously early so—

Focus, Hermione. Layers. Padding. Quiet thoughts.

She meets Narcissa’s eyes. _Better?_

Narcissa’s expression remains perfectly blank. And she ignores Hermione completely.

“Miss Weasley, I hope you are faring well? I believe your test results shall be here momentarily. And Mr Potter, good morning.”

Harry hastily gets to his feet and walks over to shake her hand. Which Narcissa does, a twitch to her lip.

“Ms Black, I’ve told you, you can call me Harry, really. I…”

Hermione looks back to her book. Had she done it right? She’d thought that would work. Maybe she could test…

What could she…

She pictures the layers once more. Tries to build them as carefully as possible. Okay. Okay and now—

She imagines the time she caught Harry and Draco—

Narcissa sharply pulls her hand back from Harry’s and turns to glare at Hermione. Oh dear. Didn’t work.

Hermione hastily gets to her feet. “I’m sorry, I was just testing—”

“And that was your first method of choice?” Narcissa hisses. “I can’t for the life of me— of all the images to choose—”

Hermione walks over to her, ignoring a very confused Harry. “It had to be something that would…shock you. Surprise you. So that I’d know.”

Narcissa’s expression relaxes, and her eyebrows raise mockingly. “Really. You find that memory shocking or surprising? If anything, I’d say it was inevitable and about time.”

A laugh escapes Hermione’s lips. That is true. The tension between Harry and Draco has been building for years. If anything it’s surprising that they’re still in denial about it all. Close friends. Yeah right. How many drunken encounters do they need before they just admit it?

Hermione can’t help but smile at Narcissa. “We’ve tried telling him, have you?”

Narcissa’s eyes slide to Harry, who is frowning between them in befuddlement, and then back to her. “Yes. For the past ten years.

Ten—

Her mouth falls open in shock. Even during— this whole time—

Narcissa chuckles softly. “I must be going. Keep reading, Miss Granger. I expect some improvement before I see you again. So far your progress has been…poor.”

Poor?!

Hermione groans as she watches Narcissa glide away down the corridor. She is so sick of this witch’s back. If she would just _explain_ rather than mock— and poor? That was definitely at least an acceptable attempt. She only got the book this morning and—

_Screaming, Miss Granger. Soften, if you would_

How?!

A sigh. _I shall inform you further over…coffee. You did request such a meeting, did you not?_

Oh.

_Yes, I— that would be— where would you—_

_My office. Two o’clock. Don’t be late_

Right. Her office. Just a professional meeting. Between two professional…academics. Yes, that’s it. Purely academic.

So why is she nerv—

Don’t think about that, Hermione! Legilimency!

She rubs at her face and turns back into the hospital room. Oh.

Harry and Ginny are both grinning at her from the bed.

What?

She walks over to them, folding her arms. “What are those faces for?”

Ginny scoffs. “Don’t act dumb, Hermione, it doesn’t suit you. Something is _definitely_ going on with you and Narcissa. I mean, what was that?! What just happened?”

Harry nods. “It was strange. And she laughed! She never laughs.”

Never laughs? That’s ridiculous— “Of course she laughs! How would you know— and she laughed yesterday too, Ginny was there, she can—”

“Keeping track of her laughs, are you? I see…” Harry smirks.

She’s not— why would she—

Ginny nudges him conspiratorially. “And did you notice how she watched her leave? Enjoying the view were you, Hermione?”

She whacks Ginny over the head. No injuries there. Or maybe she does have brain damage, because if she thinks— “I wasn’t _watching her_. I was talking to her. In our heads. She’s teaching me to think more quietly because my thoughts are…rather…loud. Shut up.”

Ginny and Harry are barely holding back laughter at this point.

“Loud thoughts? That is such a Hermione problem. She can hear you? She can read your every thought? Oh Hermione, how romantic—” Ginny gasps out.

Harry wipes at his eyes, leaning against Ginny. “She can really hear everything? Can she hear you right now?”

Hermione sits down with a huff. Idiots. Such good friends. “I don’t know. She won’t tell me. I’m having coffee with her later to…no. No, don’t look at me like that. It’s not— it’s purely academic. She sent me a book and—”

Harry abruptly stops laughing, his eyebrows raising into his hair. What?

Ginny stills too, eyes widening. “Umm, we were joking, Hermione. But…she got you a book? Maybe she actually does like you.”

Hermione scoffs. “Of course she doesn’t. She just wants me to stop shouting at her. It’s a book on— this book. That’s why I’m reading it. It’s— Ginny!”

Ginny has already grabbed the book from her hands, opening the front cover.

And raises her eyes to Hermione, showing the page to Harry. “A joke. An inside joke, from Narcissa Black. Does Narcissa Black joke, Harry?”

“Uhh, no. Well, kind of. She can be quite funny. Witty. And Draco says— but sending Hermione Granger a book?”

He pushes up his glasses and turns to Hermione. “Looks more like academic flirting to me.”

Academic flirting?


	3. Chapter 3

It’s almost two o’clock, and Hermione’s stomach just won’t stop flipping as she sits on the sofa in her living room. Heart pattering. It’s not—

Well, there are three reasons for her to be nervous.

One. She’s about to be alone in a small office with a rather intimidating witch. A witch who is very hard to read, was on the other side during the war, and who has never been quite clear on how she feels about Hermione.

Which leads to number two. Academic flirting. Have they been flirting? Is this just coffee or… _coffee_? Hermione has hardly any experience with…dating or— and Narcissa is just— well Hermione is rather out of her depth. The witch is beautiful, and elegant, and poised. Clever and quick. And judgy.

And that’s number three. She can read Hermione’s thoughts. In fact, that’s the whole reason for this…meeting. Now that Harry and Ginny have put the thought in her head…oh it’s going to be awful! Every glance or…just looking at the witch will be agony.

Should she cancel?

What, Hermione, and avoid her forever? Are you a Gryffindor or not?

She looks down at the book in her lap. Well. Only one choice. Learn to shield your mind very _very_ quickly. You’ve read the book now. Twice. At least— oh.

She glances at the clock. Still fifteen minutes.

And runs to the floo, sticking her head in. “Tonks residence!”

A living room appears before her. And a little boy playing with some dinosaurs. With a horn coming out of his head. “Teddy! Teddy, can you get your gran for me?”

The boy looks up with a grin. “Hermione! Look! I’m a triceratops! Roooaar!”

Hermione groans. No time. “Yes— I mean, technically triceratops have three horns, tri means three but— it’s very cool, can you just— Andy!”

Andromeda walks in from the kitchen, drying her hands. “Hermione? I wasn’t expecting…are you alright? You seem…come through.”

Hermione staggers to her feet and walks through gratefully. And then closes her mind as much as she can, coming to stand in front of the witch. “Can you read my thoughts? Am I blocking any— am I shouting?”

Andromeda’s forehead furrows…

And then her eyes snap to Hermione’s. Dart around, irises almost vibrating. “You’ve done…something…but…yes. I can still see your thoughts. You’re just— Cissy?!”

Hermione squeezes her eyes shut. “No! Why?! What am I doing wrong? Tell me quick because I only have ten minutes—”

“—until your date with my sister.”

Hermione groans. “It’s not a date! I— I don’t think. She said I was shouting my thoughts at her, do I do that? Am I shouting? You never told me that.”

She feels Andromeda push her down to sit on the sofa, and cautiously opens her eyes.

Andromeda tuts. “Cissy’s more…sensitive than me. More receptive. Her abilities are natural, I just taught myself so that she’d stop talking about me behind my back with Bel—”

Oh.

Andromeda looks away guiltily, watching Teddy create a wobbly pyramid out of the dinosaurs.

Hermione squeezes her hand. “So. How do I…she told me to think more quietly. I haven’t figured out how yet, but I’m about to be in a tiny office with her. I’d rather not be yelling.”

Andromeda turns back to her with a grin. “Especially yelling about how _poised_ and _elegant_ she is.”

Hermione buries her face in her hands. “Come on! I only have five minutes now! And I don’t even know where her office is!”

Andromeda pulls her hands away and smiles at her gently.

“Third floor, all the way at the end. Overlooking the gardens. And it’s fine, Hermione. Cissy’s just being dramatic. She’s used to it, believe me. Just try…stay calm, and imagine that…I don’t know, there’s a baby you don’t want to wake up. Try to think like your mind is an audiobook. Soothing. Then whatever you think, at least it will be easy-listening for her.”

Hermione smiles gratefully. That does kind of help. Less blocking, more…tweaking. Softening. Oh. Oh that’s what she meant.

Andromeda pulls her up, and shoves her toward the floo. “Off you go. And don’t let her bully you. She’s probably teasing because she likes you anyway, so don’t worry about that.”

Hermione stumbles into the floo. Likes her?

Andromeda sighs. “Have fun on your date. And Cissy, if you peek at this memory then you are definitely looking around on purpose. And get some sleep!”

Wha—

“St Mungo’s!” Andromeda calls into the fire, and Hermione finds herself spinning away.

* * *

Oh.

How horrible.

Someone has— who would…

Someone has engraved the Dark Mark into the door of Narcissa’s office. And changed her nameplate to Malfoy.

Does she know? Has she…

She knocks on the door, avoiding the Mark, just…because.

“Come in.”

Narcissa doesn’t look up from her desk, writing something down, a slight frown marring her forehead. “I apologise, I thought this would be finished but I really have to catch the next mailing portkey to—”

Her hand freezes, a drop of ink falling onto the parchment. Her eyes meet Hermione’s. “Oh.”

And then dart to the open door.

Hermione takes a slow breath, and pulls out her wand, directing it at the door. “Reparo.”

Nothing happens.

Well then. She walks closer, studying it. “Reparo maxima! Scourgify!”

The nameplate fixes itself. But the mark remains.

“Not so easy to repair, I’m afraid,” sighs a soft voice from behind her.

Hermione turns around with a frown. “This has happened before?”

Narcissa leans sideways against the doorframe, face perfectly blank. Calm. “Not so frequently as of late, but yes. Especially now that the Kiss is no longer permitted in Azkaban. People are angry. Vengeful. I’m a more accessible target than…others.”

Narcissa raises her wand towards the door, but Hermione grabs her wrist. “Don’t.”

Narcissa flinches back. Pulls her wrist free. Oh.

Hermione raises her hands in apology and steps back. “No I— I mean it’s evidence. You should report this! This is your workplace, you don’t deserve— what if— this could escalate or—”

Narcissa’s posture relaxes, and she just waves her wand at the door. The Mark fades away. “As I said. People are hurt. They…it is understandable. My family…”

“Are not you. The war’s over.”

“And yet the scars still remain…” Narcissa’s gaze drifts to Hermione’s arm.

Ah. Well, actually…

Hermione rolls up her sleeve with a smile, and Narcissa actually gasps. Reaches for Hermione’s arm seemingly subconsciously, turning it over and running her fingers over it. Hermione feels herself shiver as fingertips ghost over her skin.

Wide blue eyes raise to hers. “It’s gone? How—”

“Andy. Managed to remember the counter-spell. Then all I needed was some regular salves and—”

“Gone,” Narcissa breathes.

All Hermione can do is nod dumbly in agreement. “Gone.”

They become lost in the silence for a moment. Both staring at Hermione’s arm in memory.

And then Narcissa seems to realise what she’s doing and sharply drops Hermione’s arm, taking a step back and straightening her spine into a more professional persona. “Well. Shall we?”

Oh. Right. Legilimency. Or…occlumency. Mind magic. Soft thoughts.

Soften your thoughts, Hermione.

She follows Narcissa into the office, taking a seat opposite her desk.

She suddenly doesn’t know what to do with her hands. She should have brought some coffee with her as promised.

Narcissa continues writing on the scroll from earlier. “St Mungo’s does have elves for these occasions, as I am sure you are aware. Unless you believe it to be some kind of _abuse_ to request a cup of coffee.”

Oh dear. Touchy topic. After all, Dobby— “It isn’t abuse if the elves are treated fairly and with respect. They’re fellow beings. If they choose to work for St Mungo’s, to fetch coffee and various other refreshments for the healers, then they are just the same as any other member of—”

“I sincerely hope you are not comparing me to a house-elf, Miss Granger.”

And what does that mean?! She folds her arms. “And what if I am? Do you think they’re _beneath_ you? That something as _lowly_ as caring for generations of wizards without even a word of thanks is—”

Narcissa rolls up the scroll, getting to her feet rather sharply and sending it off through some kind of tube system in the wall behind her, by the window. “I said nothing of the sort. And the fact that you think me—”

Hermione gets to her feet too, not enjoying looking up at the witch. “Then what _did_ you mean? Because between your actions and Dobby’s, I know which person in that room I am most grateful to for—”

Narcissa whirls around to face her, leaning over the desk and into her space, eyes steely and gesturing harshly. “I _meant_ that I’d hoped you didn’t see me as a mere service. A quick fix to your mind magic quandary. That you won’t call upon me with a snap of your fingers. It was a joke, Miss Granger. Shocking as it may seem, I am not the wilfully ignorant witch I was ten years ago. If you cannot see that, then I’m afraid I shall have to cancel our meeting. A mind is an intimate place. I thought I knew who I was sharing it with, but it appears I have misjudged you. Get. Out.”

Oh. Oh no. Oh she didn’t mean— oh she _had_ judged her. She’d thought the worst, seen what she wanted to— “I’m so sorry. Of course I know that—”

“Out! Out of my office.” Narcissa grabs her shoulders, turns her around, and begins physically pushing her towards the door. “I’ve had enough. You’re in my head. At my workplace. Sending letters to my home. Enough. I’m not— I can’t— and stop thinking so loudly, just stop! Get— one mile, you understand? One mile radius.”

A mile? She can hear for a mile? It must be deafening.

Her feet can’t find purchase on the slippery floor, and she slides out of the doorway, turning around to apologise once more and—

A door slams in her face.

_Only you. I can only hear you from one mile away. Because you are so. Loud._

Oh dear. Well that hadn’t gone well at all.

She hurriedly jogs off down the corridor.

One mile. She’d better go for a walk.


	4. Chapter 4

Hermione sighs as she stares out over the pond at the back of the Burrow. The sun is starting to set, reflecting in the water. She watches some frogs peek their heads out at the edges. Alright for some. No worries. No stupid runaway mouths that…

And the frogs dart back under the water as Ginny thuds down to sit next to her on the grass. Apparently not taking any notice of Healer Podsley’s explicit instructions to be careful and to let her bones strengthen over the next few days.

“So? How did your date go? I’ve been dying to know all day, that family dinner felt like it lasted forever!”

“A date? You had a date?”

Great. Ron and Fleur walking towards them. Oh, and Harry not far behind, hopping into some wellies at the back door. More people to nosey around in her life.

Hermione rolls her eyes at Ron as he approaches. “No. Not a date. Ginny is just joking. I had a meeting.”

Harry has caught up with them, and is grinning at her. He must have overheard. “Actually, she had a coffee date. With Narcissa.”

Ron’s jaw falls open, and he drops down onto the grass too. “Malfoy’s mum? How did _that_ happen? You’ve avoided her for bloody years after…uhh…well…”

Fleur tuts, sitting down a lot more delicately. “She has changed, this Narcissa Black. We have seen this. Money to the families, working at St Mungo’s. This is how you are meeting, yes Hermione? And you asked her to coffee? I think this is a good idea. You have been alone for too long now, chérie.”

Hermione makes an odd squawking sound of protest. “It’s not— I didn’t— well I did, but it was purely— and we didn’t even _drink_ coffee, we—”

Ginny turns to face her, eyes gleaming. “Well? What _did_ you do, if you didn’t even get round to the coffee part? I mean, I’m not surprised. _Everyone_ knows coffee’s just an excuse. A code.”

A code? That’s ridiculous.

Umm…why is everyone nodding?

She turns to Harry. “Coffee’s a code? I didn’t know it was code! I meant coffee. Actual coffee— and it was supposed to be a— a chat. That’s all. Like I told you.”

Harry just shakes his head at her, and she turns to Fleur instead as the witch chuckles. And then Fleur leans in to whisper in her ear slyly. “Hermione. If I asked you to come in for coffee, do you think this is really what I mean?”

Hermione pulls back, flustered. Well no, of course she’d understand _that_. But— “It’s not like I was at her house! We met in her office. So that she could teach me occlumency and stop me shouting my thoughts. Apparently she can hear me from a mile away my thoughts are so loud.”

Ron rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “So…how did the lesson go? I mean…you like lessons, don’t you? Learning a new subject? So why are you so…snippy.”

Snippy? She’s—

Harry puts a hand on her shoulder, looking in her eyes earnestly. “It didn’t go well, did it? Draco said Narcissa…well…”

Oh gods. She really needs Harry to finish that sentence. Narcissa was angry? Upset? Told him the horrible things that— “Well?! What did Draco say? Is she— I mean—”

“She hugged him.”

Oh.

Everyone just stares at Harry. He stares back.

Argh. “Harry, for Godric’s sake, Narcissa’s the mind reader, not us. Can you _explain_?!”

He nods in apology. “Oh. Right. Forgot you don’t see her that often. Well she…she obviously cares about Draco a lot. Touches him or…strokes his hair, his face. But she hardly ever hugs him. Don’t know why. Only when…it’s like when she feels off balance. He grounds her. So she hugs him. You must have really caught her off guard with something today.”

Hermione collapses onto her back on the ground. It’s a bit damp. But she doesn’t care. And she just can’t have them all staring at her. Shit. She’d really— she hadn’t meant—

“We had an argument. She made a comment about house-elves and— and I took it the wrong way. Thought she was being…elitist. Prejudiced. I shouted at her, and she shouted back. Threw me out of her office. Turns out she was just making a joke and now— now she doesn’t trust me. Said she’d misjudged me. That I should stay away from her.”

The guilt has been making her sick all afternoon, and knowing how much she’d upset the witch is just making it worse. How could she accuse someone of such prejudice…when she was the one doing the judging? It’s so hypocritical, and shameful and—

Ginny lies down next to her. Takes her hand. “Don’t beat yourself up. You’ve analysed it to death, haven’t you? But I bet it’s not as bad as you think. Because you didn’t mean it. You don’t think of her as…you know, ‘Narcissa Malfoy’. You never would have invited _her_ to coffee. Sat in a room with her. Gone to her for help. No, you know she’s changed. You just need to make sure she knows that, if you’re feeling bad about it.”

Hermione rolls sideways to meet Ginny’s eye. “You think?” she whispers. “I hate upsetting people. Getting it wrong. I never meant…”

Ron leans over her with a grin. “Mate. You’re fine. Think about it, this is probably the best person for this to happen with.”

Hermione glares at him and sits up. “Why, Ronald? Because she’s a _Malfoy_?”

He sighs. “You’re doing it again. Let me finish. No, because she can read your mind! She knows exactly what you’re really thinking, feeling. All you have to do is think lots of…nice thoughts about her…and she’ll pick it up on her weird Hermione-radar.”

Radar? “How do you know what a radar—”

Fleur rolls her eyes. “We have a new television. With a DVD player. It is for Victoire’s muggle studies. Bill is obsédé. Since January there is a film night every Friday with Ronald and Harry. A boys night.”

A boys night? How sexist and exclusionary and why—

Harry clears his throat. “Of course anyone is welcome. It’s actually— well we’ve all noticed how Bill…it’s a bit of an excuse really. To get him talking about stuff.”

Fleur’s eyes dart to the house, and she whirls to look at Harry. And then a guilty looking Ron. “You noticed?” she whispers. “How he is…not himself?”

Harry’s right. They’ve all noticed. Like his spark has gone out. And it’s understandable. An adrenaline junkie like Bill taking an office job to be closer to his family? No risk, getting older, new baby, nine to five life…he’s having a bit of a crisis.

“Yeah. But…he’s doing better, right? I mean with his parkour…and that new contract at work? That was a big deal, congratulations, by the way,” Ron says cautiously.

Fleur smiles softly. “Yes. Yes, he is doing a lot better. And he is talking more, so I think you boys are helping.”

She takes a sharp breath. “But he is proud. He would not like us all gossiping about him. So. Let’s gossip about Hermione instead. About how she will win back the heart of her _fair lady_.”

Ginny bursts out laughing, and Hermione sends a swift ‘eat slugs’ hex at Fleur’s now wicked grin.

Which she deflects. Into Ron.

Who manages to give her and Harry a ‘why me again’ look before his eyes widen and— oh that’s disgusting. Oh what’s the counterspell, quick? She shouldn’t have chosen— she’d forgotten how absolutely nauseating it is. Ugh.

Harry waves his wand at Ron with a chuckle. “Tough luck. Although we’d better get some more training in this week. Looks like we’ve been sat behind desks too long too, now that all the Riddle supporters have been rounded up.”

Riddle supporters. Oh yes, she’s been meaning to ask. “Harry…did you know about…Narcissa’s door?”

He stops sniggering at Ron and turns to her, smile falling. “It happened again?”

She nods.

He runs a hand through his hair tiredly, sending it sticking up everywhere. “And she didn’t report it, did she? We’ve told her to…”

“I told her as well. She needs to be careful, Harry. What if next time they don’t stop at the door, or—”

“I know. Draco worries too. I mean she can probably handle herself but—”

“She shouldn’t have to!” Hermione snaps. “I mean, in a hospital? To a healer? How dare they— after everything she’s—ah!”

_I don’t need your pity, Miss Granger_

Hermione jolts to her feet, looking around. Where the hell— what is she doing around _here_?!

_Not intentional, I assure you. Softly_

She feels a hand on her ankle. Ginny. “Uhh…Hermione? What are you—”

Oh no. Mind reader. Okay. Okay, soft thoughts. Nice thoughts and— and it wasn’t pity it was—

Everyone gets to their feet around her, looking at her in obvious concern. Like she’s gone mad.

“She’s here. Somewhere. She—” she mutters at Ginny, scanning the countryside.

_Ms Black, I really am sorry. I honestly feel terrible I— I know how much you’ve changed. I’m actually in awe of how you’ve—_

_Awe? Pity was one thing, but platitudes? Pathetic_

“Pathetic?!” Hermione yells through the orchard, causing some startled birds to take flight from the apple trees. “I was being nice! Genuine! Oh you are so—”

_Careful, you’ll awaken the baby with your shouting_

She snaps her mouth shut.

The baby? What baby?

Oh.

“Fleur, who’s looking after Louis?”

Fleur frowns at her. “Andromeda. I was just so tired today, so we swapped. Teddy for Louis. For the evening. She missed having a baby, and if I saw one more bottle I would scream so—”

_You’re…here? At the Burrow?_

_Andromeda insisted. I’m in the kitchen. You have grass in your hair_

Oh no! Hermione tussles her hair with her fingers, trying to get the grass out, and looks over to the kitchen window. Where Narcissa is now stood smirking at her.

Hermione raises a hand awkwardly. _Hello_

“Blimey. Really is a Hermione-radar. Or more like a Narcissa-radar. Creepy,” Ron mumbles.

Narcissa walks away from the window and out of sight.

“She can probably hear you too, Ron, we’re only a few metres away,” Hermione tuts.

_I tuned Mr Weasley out years ago. And Mr Potter, after some…thoughts that I did not wish to witness_

Hermione barks out a laugh. Draco.

And then sighs. _I really am sorry_

_It is possible my actions were…less than appropriate. I behaved…_

Hermione smiles, walking toward the house. _Understandably. But I hope…I mean I know you’re not a house-elf but…coffee?_ She takes off her shoes and walks into the kitchen. _It looks like I’m in desperate need of lessons seeing as you can still hear me from…uhh…_

Only Molly and Andy at the table. Where is she?

_I am upstairs. Escaping Molly’s fussing and badgering. Apparently I am looking ‘peaky’ and ‘far too thin’_

Hermione covers another laugh with her hand. Rather unsuccessfully. Andy gives her a pointed look.

And then Andromeda’s voice speaks into her head. _So you’ve both sorted out this nonsense. Thank Merlin. I thought it might drag on for—_

 _Andromeda,_ comes Narcissa’s clipped voice, _I don’t know what you think you are doing, but—_

_Cissy! Get out of the witch’s head. The poor thing—_

_She is shouting! I can even hear your thoughts through her. She has some sort of…amplification. It’s not as if I—_

Will they stop using her head as some kind of shared landline?! Just come downstairs and talk!

Two scoffs in her head. _And let Molly Weasley get wind of this?_ Andromeda murmurs, _she’ll be planning your wedding_

Andy!

_Careful, Andromeda. If you don’t stop staring into Miss Granger’s eyes in silence, then I believe Molly will be jumping to a far different conclusion…_

Hermione quickly averts her gaze from Andromeda, suddenly realising that she’s been wandering around in odd silence this whole time. She’s blocking the doorway. And Molly _is_ looking between her and Andromeda suspiciously.

Hermione hastily moves further into the kitchen, letting the others past. “Fleur said you brought Louis over, Andy, is he…upstairs? I haven’t seen him in ages. They grow up so fast, don’t they?” she says as casually as possible.

Andy bites her lip to hold back a laugh, and Molly raises her eyebrows at them. Great. Now she’ll definitely think—

“Yes, _Louis_ is upstairs in Ginny’s old room. Why don’t you go on up. And if you just _happen_ to run into my sister, please check that she’s alright. She’s been in the bathroom for quite some time and—ow— and she—maybe she—ah Merlin— why don’t you see if she’s alright?”

Andromeda is wincing now. Rubbing at her temples. Did Narcissa…do something to her head?

Harry walks over to Andy in concern. “Are you alright? A migraine or…”

Andromeda chuckles. “Just a sudden headache. Gone now. I’m fine, Harry. And I think Teddy’s in the shed with Arthur and Bill if you want to go see him? He wants to show off his dinosaur horns.”

Harry breaks out in a wide grin. “Horns? Like more than one? The kid managed it?”

He runs out the back door. “Ron, Gin. You gotta see this. The kid’s amazing, he…”

Silence settles as Harry, Ginny and Ron quickly leave. Fleur sighs. “I should probably check on Louis. He is upstairs you say?”

Hermione hastily moves towards the staircase. “Uhh, I’ll go. Like I said— haven’t seen him and— you’re tired, so—”

Molly pushes Fleur into a chair with a firm nod. “Yes. You sit. And have another slice of cake. There’s plenty of it and— and Andy, don’t you think you should go with Hermione, hmm? In case Louis is awake? Show her how to—”

_Ah. As I suspected. A spring wedding for you and Andromeda, Miss Granger_

Hermione trips on the first step. “It’s fine, Molly! I’ll be fine!”

“Yes. Yes Hermione will— I’ll have some more cake, Molly. And did you say you had some coffee in?” Andromeda splutters out, either picking up on the misunderstanding herself, or hearing Narcissa’s voice in her head too.

Hermione begins making her way up the stairs.

“Coffee? I suppose…although I know _Hermione_ has far…” Molly’s voice drifts through the ceiling. Gah. Stupid coffee, and codes, and interfering witches…

She stops on the landing. The door to Ginny’s room is open.

Narcissa turns around from where she’s been looking into a crib, holding a finger to her lips. _Sssshh. Sleeping_

Oh.

But— _I wasn’t talking. I was thinking. Louis can’t hear me. Only you_

Narcissa freezes. Eyes widening slightly in realisation. And then pinches her brow. _I really must get some sleep…my mind is…_

Hermione walks closer, studying her. Circles under her eyes, pale, still in her healer’s robes, leaning her weight against the crib.

Narcissa turns away. _I am aware my appearance is frightfully drab. Work has been…_

Hermione holds back a disbelieving scoff. _Narcissa. You always look beautiful. And you’re talking to the witch with grass in her hair who practically lives in her office all week_

Narcissa just leans further over the crib. _A blond little boy. It has been so long since…I can almost imagine…_

Hermione stands next to her. Looks down at the peacefully sleeping Louis. He does look remarkably like Draco. _Are you sure there’s no Veela blood in you? You weren’t secretly switched at birth?_

_Like a changeling?_

_It would explain your blonde hair_

_Sirius was also blond, it is not completely out of the question for us Blacks_

What?!

_Miss Granger, would you please quieten—_

_Sirius was blond?! When?! How?!_

Narcissa presses her hand over Hermione’s mouth with a groan. “Be quiet!” she hisses.

And Hermione does fall silent. Staring in shock. Skin against her lips.

And Narcissa stills too. Her eyes fall shut. _Apologies. Such foolish behaviour. What…just…are you trying? To think more quietly?_

Hermione slowly nods…and then shakes her head. _I was at first…and then I forgot again. When you told me about Sirius. I was surprised_

A chuckle in her head. _I know. But it is the truth. He was blond until he was about seven…then it began to darken. Mousy. Dull. He wanted to look cool and brooding instead, so he got his hands on some kind of charm right before he set off for Hogwarts. A new, edgy Sirius. It was around then he forbade us from calling him Siri. Said it sounded too girly_

Well that is interesting, and she’s definitely going to tell Harry about that. But right now, all she can concentrate on is the nostalgic smile on Narcissa’s face, and the soft hand still firm against her lips. And she really should try to shield her thoughts before—

Blue eyes blink open. The hand falls away. _I really am very curious about your mind, Miss Granger. But I’m afraid I shall be extremely busy once again next week. As I imagine you will be also_

Hermione licks her lips, and then nods jerkily. _Very busy. The magical creature AGM is next month, and the goblins still refuse to— but I’m sure I could find time? An evening? Or…dinner?_

Oh. Oh wait. Hermione freezes as her brain catches up with what she just said. Did she just ask Narcissa to dinner? Did that just happen? And— well Narcissa is very attractive. But does Narcissa even like her like that? Or at all? What does she think Hermione means by dinner? Because either way, friendship or more, she really does want to spend more time with the witch. She’s just so interesting and—

Narcissa looks her over consideringly.

And then seems to come to a decision. Steps closer, piercing eyes staring right through into Hermione’s soul. Tiredness gone, replaced with exhilaration. A spark. _No. No, not dinner. I want to get a look into you head. You are a puzzle, Miss Granger. And to solve you will take all of my undivided attention. I won’t rest until I’ve analysed every inch of you. Dinner will not cut it. I need all of your focus on me. Every night that you can spare until I finally get some relief_

Hermione loses her breath. Her heart begins to thunder. Her brain whirs to a stop.

She— what— that’s—nnhh—

Narcissa turns around calmly. Reaches into the crib. “Look who’s awake. Shall I take you to your mummy? You need to be getting home, don’t you, little one? That’s right. That’s right, who is this stranger? It’s alright. Let’s go find mummy,” she murmurs softly to a wriggling Louis.

Hermione can’t seem to move. Or think.

Narcissa and the baby sweep out of the room.

Hermione takes a gasping breath as she remembers to breathe. Oh dear lord. What has she gotten herself into?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ....wow. Narcissa.
> 
> Anyway, can you tell I miss group hangouts? hahaha
> 
> Sigh. Platonic intimacy, anyone?
> 
> Annnd not so platonic intimacy ;)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for all the comments and kudos everyone! You guys are the best!

Hermione wraps her cloak more tightly around herself as she heads out of Gringotts, the wind biting today. She hurries down a narrow passage off of Diagon Alley, glad to be sheltered from the cold.

She might go somewhere for a cup of tea. There’s a nice little bookshop around the corner that she hasn’t visited in ages. They serve drinks. And she needs to write up her notes. Bill had actually been very helpful telling her more about goblins. There are still so many customs for her to learn, but she’s finally getting a grip on it. She thinks if she can just word the letter right they might finally agree to—

Oh.

She walks closer to the bookshop window, a smile spreading on her face. Oh dear. Oh she’ll be so embarrassed when…

 _Ms Black?_ she calls in her mind.

No, Narcissa is still asleep, in an armchair in the corner of the shop. Book in her lap, head in her hand. She doesn’t even stir.

Hermione shakes her head, walking in the door. No one else around. Reginald must be in the back, restocking or sorting out the finances. No other customers that she can see.

She walks around the corner.

Well. Other than a nodding blonde head. She really must be exhausted. _Narcissa? Can you hear me? You need to wake up_

And Hermione holds back a laugh as the witch curls up in the chair, feet on the cushions.

Why, Ms Black. How improper. Oh her book is going to fall—

She catches the book with a wingardium leviosa before it can thud onto the floor. Hovers it towards her. She probably shouldn’t look, but she can’t help being curious about…

It’s in French. Of course. Because of course Narcissa speaks French and…she tries to memorise the title. It’s quite long but— Just…well, out of curiosity. And Hermione really should learn French. For…Fleur. Yes. To be a good friend. So…

‘ _Une étude sur le traitement des malades mentaux par les plantes sur le plateau Dongo au Mali’_

Uhh…something about plants, a plateau and…Mali. What?

She’ll definitely need to ask Fleur.

“Ms Black? I’m afraid…” a dim shout drifts from the far end of the shop, perhaps a floor down.

Oh no. Reginald. Well. No choice but to—

She gently shakes Narcissa’s shoulder and—ah! “Protego!”

Hermione only just gets the shield up in time as a white spell whizzes towards her.

Who casts a full body-bind curse on reflex?! Thank goodness her own reflexes are still— oh no, the bookshelf! She looks about in horror.

The spell has exploded some books. A lot of books. Paper falling around them.

 _Hermione? Why, wha— where…_ Narcissa thinks confusedly from behind her, getting to her feet.

Hermione spins back around and panickedly pushes the witch towards the entrance. “Go distract Reginald, quickly! If he sees what we’ve done to his books he—”

Narcissa’s eyes widen as she takes in the papery chaos.

_Oh. Oh I see. Yes, repair it. Quickly_

The witch walks out of sight around the corner. _His Animagus form is a tiger, and—_

_A tiger?! Oh this dreadful! This—_

_Will you stop shouting!_ Narcissa hisses. _I’m trying to concentrate!_

“Mr Ainselby! You’re certain you could not find it? I hate to be a bother but…”

Hermione breathes a sigh of relief as Narcissa’s voice fades. Near the back of the shop. It’s actually quite far, there’s an expansion charm and—

_Focus, Miss Granger_

Oh. Oh yes. “Reparo maxima,” she whispers.

And the books slowly repair themselves, torn pages blending back together, reattaching to spines.

And then resting back on the floor. A jumbled pile of books. Oh no.

Alright. Alphabetically by author’s surname. But also in sections and— is that dark arts or runes? And this could be potions or herbology. Is there a colour chart? What is the system?!

_Just put them back on the shelves and leave, he’s coming back!_

Hermione begins shoving books onto shelves at random. Sorry. There’s just no time. She can come back for them later. They’ll be back where they belong in no time and—

_…are you apologising to the books, Miss Granger?_

Umm…yes.

Okay. Okay all sorted. Now get out of here.

She skids over to the door, opening it and—

“Hermione? You’re…leaving?”

Hermione slowly turns around, desperately trying to breath normally. Reginald is stood next to Narcissa, looking at Hermione in confusion.

“Umm…yes. Sorry. I was just— just popping in, but there’s…an owl, I completely forgot to…”

He doesn’t look convinced. Stroking his ginger beard and looking between her and Narcissa suspiciously, eyes sharp.

Tiger. It’s so obvious now. Before she would have thought maybe a ginger tomcat but…there’s definitely an aura of danger. Something telling her to keep her guard up. Not turn her back. She swallows uncomfortably. She’s so bad at lying. She hates being caught in—

“It is alright, Miss Granger,” Narcissa clips. “I was just leaving. You don’t have to disappear on my account.”

What is she doing?

_He has two possibilities in mind. One that you do not wish to share a room with me…and the other a…sense, that someone has tampered with his books. A twinge in the protection wards. I’d rather he believe the former, don’t you?_

Oh. Well…she doesn’t really want people to think she has a problem with Narcissa. But… angry tiger? He’s so possessive over his books. Territorial. The bookshop across the street just…disappeared. Overnight. What if he— he probably didn’t eat them, but—

Narcissa tuts into her head. _Say something! You’ve been stood in silence for—_

Right. Well she— if it’s not hatred between them, then the only other reason for this odd behaviour would be…

Hermione smiles shyly at Narcissa. “No, of course it wasn’t on your account, Narcissa. Not like that. I just— well you never said when we would meet after you turned down my invitation to dinner and— I thought I might have misread…”

Narcissa’s eyebrows raise. _Really? …Fine._

Narcissa glances at Reginald. There is a definite gleam to his eyes now. He loves gossip. So Hermione _has_ distracted him.

“Hermione Granger? Misread something?” Narcissa jokes, sly smile forming on her face. “How ever did you come to that conclusion? No, I believe I was quite clear about what I wanted. I owled you this morning, but it appears you have missed my message. Fortuitous that we should run into each other. If you are free…coffee, perhaps?”

Hermione nods hastily. _Oh. Did you really send me an owl? I haven’t—_

Narcissa walks forwards, and reaches around Hermione to open the door for her. “I’m sorry to leave so suddenly, Mr Ainselby. Do let me know if that book comes in.”

Oh, she is leaning so close and—

“No no. No of course, Ms Black. I wouldn’t want to keep your from— you two witches have fun. And Hermione, feel free to come back _any time._ It seems we have _so much_ to catch up on.”

Hermione stumbles backwards out the door, nodding distractedly at Reginald. It’s all she can seem to do. Narcissa is still very much in her space and—

And grabs hold of Hermione’s arm, marching them off down the street. Very quickly. Hermione is almost jogging to keep up, eyes on the floor so she doesn’t trip on the cobblestones. How Narcissa moves so fast in heels, she can’t _imagine._

_Umm, Narcissa? What’s the—_

_He’s about to check the books. He still—_

A roar thunders from back down the street.

Oh shit.

_Does he—_

_He smells you. You may have to find another bookshop, Miss Granger. One of the spines is irreparable, and it’s a collectible and—_

Oh they should disapparate. They should really—

_Yes, take us somewhere. I can hear him getting closer and his anger management— go!_

Hermione hears a growl from behind them, claws scraping stone, and closes her eyes. Pulls Narcissa tightly against her and spins on the spot.

Disappearing with a crack.

* * *

And they appear in Hermione’s living room. It was the first place she’d thought of and…

And they’re stood very close together. She’s holding onto Narcissa rather tightly, actually. One hand on her waist. The other on her shoulder. She should probably let go.

If her muscles would let her. Clenched, after the adrenaline rush. And they’re both breathing fast. Catching their breath.

There’s a very awkward silence thickening around them. Narcissa hasn’t moved either. Hand digging into Hermione’s arm.

For once, Hermione has absolutely no thoughts. No idea what to do.

Well. At least her brain won’t be shouting at Narcissa right now.

Narcissa breathes out a laugh. _So that’s the solution. Set a tiger on you_

Hermione chuckles back. _I’d rather not do that again actually. That can be plan B. Or D. Somewhere far down the list. Hopefully we’ll come up with something a lot less terrifying_

_And ridiculous_

Oh it was absolutely ridiculous. Who gets chased down the street by a tiger in the middle of London? Because they decided to get a cup of tea at a bookshop?

 _You really need to get some sleep, Narcissa. It’s becoming life threatening_ she jokes.

Narcissa sighs, and pulls away from her, stepping back. “Perhaps you are right. I have been…” she shakes her head.

What is it? It can’t just be work. Podsley has said…avoiding. What’s she avoiding? What’s the problem?

Narcissa shakes her head again. And then sways on her feet. Whoa!

Hermione grabs her, pushes her down to sit on the sofa. “Okay, that’s it. You are going to sleep. Have you eaten? Because if not, you are eating, and then you will get some sleep. Either right here, or I am taking you home. No excuses.”

Narcissa rubs at her temples. “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s barely midday. And— yes, I know, stop thinking about— I’ll be going. I’m sure you are busy. If I may use your floo?”

Hermione searches her face. “Of course…Narcissa…why…?”

Narcissa clears her throat. Gets to her feet, smoothing down her skirt. “I did owl you. I’m free tomorrow night, are you?”

Oh. For…occlumency lessons? Or...

Narcissa rolls her eyes. And then her eyes stay rolled back and— oh fuck.

Hermione catches Narcissa again. Okay, is she unconscious?!

_Narcissa?! Narcissa wha—_

_Problem…with…Legi…Podsley…_

Podsley? Healer Podsley? Okay. Okay—

Hermione apparates them outside Podsley’s office, not even knocking before she elbows the door open, dragging Narcissa inside. “Podsley?! Podsley are—”

Podsley comes out of the side room. “What is— oh Merlin, I _told_ you to get her into bed. What is she— Narcissa, I am going to kill you. You are so stubborn, just ask! I offered! I’m sure your family would—”

Hermione finally has the thought to hover Narcissa into the air horizontally so she’s lying down. She’s heavy when— not that she’s heavy, just—

“What’s wrong with her? What is it?”

Podsley tuts, casting a diagnostic spell at Narcissa and nodding. “As I thought. Sleep deprivation. It’s her research. She messed around with mind magic and now— look, I would take her, but I have relatives staying over and— what about Draco? I mean did she not even ask _Draco?”_

 _“_ Ask him what?!” Is she sick? What does she need?

Narcissa wrenches her eyes open. “Mmm…fnn. Confi…”

Podsley glares at her. “Then she will sign something! This is— Hermione. Narcissa has accidentally triggered some sort of…defence mechanism in her mind whilst working on her research. A side effect is that her legilimency has…intensified, and is behaving unusually. Another side effect is that she is unable to sleep without…another person present. Another mind within her radius. Some kind of…primate instinct, to not fall asleep alone with predators around. She’s been looking for a solution, but it has been three. Weeks.”

Three weeks? Without sleep?

_Not…always…Draco…_

“She can only sleep when Draco visits?! And she hasn’t told anyone? Narcissa! Why—”

_Don't want to worry…_

Of course he worries!

“Wait!” Podsley yells. “What’s the date? When is—oh! That’s why. Draco has that big trip planned. He’s leaving tonight. If she tells him, he’ll cancel.”

Oh. Oh Harry has mentioned that. She can’t remember where he’s going but…

She looks down at Narcissa. Who is avoiding their gaze. All this, just…

“Did you ask Andy?” Hermione asks gently.

_I stayed with her for a few…she goes to bed late. Teddy wakes up early… four hours when their minds are silent. Last week_

_How many nights?_

_…Three_

Twelve hours sleep last week. Okay.

“Right. Podsley, it’s a deal. I’m getting her into bed. We can use my mind. My house or yours, Narcissa?”

“No…not…”

“My house then.”

She hovers Narcissa upright, takes a firm hold of her arm, and apparates them into her bedroom.

Narcissa glares at her.

Hermione points at the bed. “Sleep. Now. Please.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. A lot of ridiculousness squeezed into this chapter, huh.


	6. Chapter 6

Hermione grits her teeth, still gesturing to the bed. She’s not going to let Narcissa talk herself out of this. Hermione is used to dealing with stubborn idiots endangering their lives for no good—

“I hope you did not just call me an idiot, Miss Granger.” Narcissa snaps. “You should think very carefully about—”

Hermione raises her wand. “Don’t make me curse you! Because I will. You’re not the only one who can produce a petrificus totalus. Get into bed. I’ll be at the table writing up some notes if you need anything, but for the next few hours, _you_ are going to sleep.”

Narcissa raises her eyebrows. And then slowly sits down on the bed. Good.

Hermione storms out of the room and shuts the door behind her. And then leans against it. Right. Narcissa Black in your bedroom. That’s…

Think softly, think softly, think…audiobook. Calm, soft, thoughts. Sleeping baby. Or sleeping Narcissa.

She walks downstairs as quietly as possible, and sits down at the kitchen table, pulling her notes from Gringotts out of her expanded pockets. She really would like to put the kettle on and have a cup of tea, but the noise—

_You are far louder than a teakettle, Miss Granger. How you expect me to sleep with gobbledegook and magical contracts in my ears, I do not know_

Oh dear. _I’m still loud? I’m trying to whisper_

A sigh. _You whisper your conscious thoughts. It is the layer behind. Your subconscious thoughts. Connections, links, impulsive ideas_

Hmm. She’d thought this might happen. Only one way for it. She’s going to have to turn off her brain completely.

_Turn off— what are you— Oh, Miss Granger, I could not ask you to do such a thing. It is a weekday. You have— stop being so bull-headed, I am— you will not— I will visit Andy and—_

Hermione ignores her. She’s made up her mind. It’s not that difficult. She’ll just sleep now, and get her work done later when Narcissa isn’t on the verge of collapse.

She accios a blanket towards her and lies down on the sofa. _I’m tired anyway. I haven’t been sleeping well, not— well it’s obviously a lot worse for you and— just a few hours. No arguing, Ms Black_

_…fine_

Hermione smiles triumphantly and takes off her cloak and outer robes. Her pyjamas are in her room and—

_Miss Granger…come upstairs_

Hermione freezes. She— for her clothes or—

_I am already taking your time and your bed, do not embarrass me further by making you suffer yet another discomfort. And besides, you need to sleep soundly. Come to bed_

Soft thoughts, quiet thoughts. Don’t think about— argh, it is impossible to clear her mind of…she just said ‘come to bed’. How else can her brain interpret _that_?

Hermione decides to just get on with it. If her subconscious is shouting, there’s nothing she can do about it. She hurries back up the stairs. _So subconscious thoughts don’t show through in sleep?_

She opens her bedroom door. Narcissa is in her bed. Her shoes are on the floor. And her skirt is folded on a chest of drawers. No skirt. Just a shirt and tights. Okay. Okay Hermione—

_No, thankfully in sleep the mind is too…deconstructed for even my legilimency. I believe it is as the brain is— stop standing there and get undressed, Miss Granger. If this is my only opportunity to sleep then—_

_Right. Sorry._ Hermione grabs some pyjamas from a drawer, hesitates for a second, and then walks into the en-suite to get changed. This is strangely intimate as it is. _I can’t believe how little you’ve slept. And whilst working at St Mungo’s? How were you even standing?_

_…I suppose I can also be rather obstinate. And don’t you worry, I wasn’t treating patients. Other than your…insistence that I help Miss Weasley, I was there continuing my research_

Hermione stumbles into her pyjamas bottoms and cringes. She had been quite rude to Narcissa about— she’d forced her to— when she was trying to leave to get some rest.

She walks back into the bedroom. “I’m so sorry. If I’d known, I wouldn’t have bothered you. And I definitely wouldn’t have accused you of avoiding your duty of care.”

Hermione gets into the bed, and Narcissa rolls to face away from her. “You weren’t to know. It’s not the most common predicament. Co-dependent sleeping. Ridiculous.”

She looks at the witch. She’s curled away from her. On the edge of the bed. Very clearly ashamed of this. Pride knocked.

Hermione reaches over and squeezes her shoulder briefly. “Nowhere near the most ridiculous thing to happen to me. I was…attacked by a mountain troll whilst crying in the girls’ bathroom. Accidentally polyjuiced myself into a cat. Attacked by a tree and thrown into a secret tunnel, leading to a shack where an escaped convict tried to kill my friend’s pet rat, who turned out to be a mass murdering middle aged man. And that was all within my first three years at Hogwarts.”

Narcissa rolls to face her. “Polyjuiced into a cat? Draco never mentioned that.”

Hermione smiles bashfully. “More like a cat-hybrid. We were actually trying to spy on Draco. Sneak into the Slytherin common room. Harry and Ron did it without me in the end, whilst I once again cried in the bathroom.”

And Narcissa actually smiles at her. Laughs softly. “My apologies. The memory is rather amusing.”

Hermione shakes her head, smiling. It’s still embarrassing. But funnier now in hindsight. _Let’s get some sleep_

There’s no reply. Narcissa just closes her eyes, and Hermione rolls away. Squeezes her eyes shut and hugs her pillow. Time to compartmentalise the fact that she’s in bed with Narcissa, and try to get some sleep. She’s probably thinking all sorts of embarrassing things right now and— and—

_Narcissa…can I just apologise for any…inappropriate thoughts. I can’t help— if we could just pretend for the next few hours that you can’t hear me, I’d really appreciate it. It’s…_

Mortifying. Just so embarrassing.

She can’t help— flashes of legs. Narcissa just wearing a shirt. She smells nice. Don’t— don’t imagine— if she just rolled over and— no. Nope. Not—

Still no reply.

Oh no. Oh she didn’t hold those thoughts back. They slipped through and Narcissa must be so uncomfortable. She’s not even answering and—

Oh. Right. She’s pretending she can’t hear.

Hermione breathes a sigh of relief. _Thank you_

* * *

“…and no one’s seen her since, Harry! It’s not like her. Bill said she left Gringotts hours ago and—”

“Look, her cloak’s here. Maybe she just lost track of time reading. Hermione!”

Hermione blinks her eyes open with a groan. Who’s shouting? Why— blonde hair in her face? Oh no. Oh—

Oh Narcissa is on top of her and—

No time, Hermione!

She readies a shield charm and pushes Narcissa off of her, sitting up. _Narcissa! Harry and Ginny are downstairs!_

Narcissa sits up too with a start. Tensed, but thankfully with no curses blasting out of her this time. No wand.

What should—

“Hermione! Are you home?”

Hermione and Narcissa just stare at each other in wide-eyed horror. It is very obvious that Narcissa just woke up. Her hair is— oh Hermione’s hair must be a state and—

“Check upstairs, Gin. I just need to floo Draco quickly. He’s getting ready for his leaving dinner and I said I’d get there early, so I just need to let him know—”

Shit. Shit, footsteps on the stairs.

Narcissa slips off the bed, grabs her skirt and shoes, and makes her way towards the en-suite bathroom. _Tell her you’re…unwell or something! I’ll disapparate and—_

_You can’t! You’re not keyed into the wards. It worked earlier because I side-apparated us, but—_

A knock at the bedroom door. “Hermione? Are you there?”

Narcissa hurriedly shuts herself in the bathroom. _Answer her! She’s about to just come in_

“Yes, I’m fine, Ginny! One second. Just— just getting dressed.” Hermione calls out, scrambling off the bed and pulling her pyjamas off. What’s the time? Dark out. Draco’s dinner. Umm… “Draco invited me to his dinner tonight, I was just choosing an outfit. What are you doing here?”

And of course Ginny just walks into the room, no sense of privacy, wand raised and looking around suspiciously. “I didn’t know you were going. You said you had work and— where have you been all day?”

Hermione pulls out some random dresses from her wardrobe. “Oh just— reading. I mean writing. Writing up my notes for the AGM. You know Bill was very helpful, thanks for the suggestion. He—”

Harry peeks his head around the doorway, and then ducks back as he realises Hermione is getting dressed. “Oh, sorry. You’re okay, then. You know, it’s funny. First you missing, and now Narcissa. Draco said it’s her day off but she’s been out all day. And Andy…hasn’t seen her…either…”

He drifts off. Oh no.

Hermione chooses a dress and pulls it over her head to hide her expression. “Really? How strange,” she muses. Or rather squeaks. It came out quite squeakily.

_You really are awful at lying, Miss Granger. Get them out of here!_

_Well do you have any suggestions?!_

_You ignored my suggestion. Of course Miss Weasley would think nothing of barging into— she’s noticed the unmade bed. And your hair_

Hermione avoids looking at anyone, casting a subtle charm at her hair as the silence continues. And then forces her gaze to Ginny’s. Who raises her eyebrows, glancing pointedly at the bed.

“You…didn’t make your bed this morning?”

Hermione walks over and starts straightening the covers. Still warm. Oh dear. “Umm…no. Must have forgotten. You know how busy I’ve been with—”

“Harry, does Hermione ever forget to make her bed?”

“No. No she doesn’t, Ginny,” comes Harry’s smug voice. “Even on the run, living in a tent. She made her bed. And everyone else’s.”

And Hermione freezes as she spots Narcissa’s wand on the bedside table. Oh no. Oh how can she—

She leans over the bed again to ‘straighten the covers’, knocking the wand to the floor and kicking it under the bed.

 _Oh please do just throw my wand around like a common stick. Why don’t you just go ahead and snap it_ Narcissa hisses

Snap a wand? Hermione holds back a shudder at the thought. _Sorry_

“Do you think I could use your bathroom, Hermione?” Ginny asks innocently. Too innocently.

Hermione turns to face her. Yep. Ginny’s looking smug too. Folding her arms.

She starts pushing Ginny back out onto the landing with Harry. “Of course. There’s a bathroom downstairs by the— well you know where it is. Anyway, I really should get ready, and I’m sure Draco needs help with his dinner. And— and finding his mother.”

Ginny chuckles. “Oh I’m sure she’ll turn up. She can’t have gone far.” She throws an arms round Harry’s shoulder and they both walk off down the corridor.

“Don’t worry, Hermione. Your secret is safe with us!” her voice calls as they both go downstairs. “We won’t tell the others. See you two later.”

Oh no.

_She’s bluffing. She didn’t see anything too unusual and—_

“Won’t tell? Gin. Gin, we have to tell Draco—”

_Mr Potter, on the other hand, may be a problem_

Argh. Hermione runs down the landing, looking down the staircase at them. “What are you talking about? There’s nothing to tell!”

Harry snorts. “Hermione. Do you think I can spot a snitch on a quidditch pitch, but not notice a wand on your bedside table? A wand that is definitely not yours, and looks remarkably familiar…”

Ginny turns to grin at him. “A wand? I didn’t see a wand! Wh…”

Oh so now Harry is suddenly Mr Observant?!

_Narcissa, what should— if they think—_

_Whatever you do, do not tell them of my predicament. It is controversial research. Confidential. And if Draco gets word of it then—_

_Then what do I tell them?!_

And Hermione feels hands on her waist from behind. “Here, let me,” murmurs Narcissa’s voice in her ear. And the zip to her dress slides up.

Oh. Oh Hermione can’t breathe. This is—

Warm lips press to her cheek and her heart lurches. “This dress is perfect for tonight, Hermione.”

Narcissa brushes past her with a smile, and glides down the stairs towards Harry and Ginny. Who can’t seem to believe their eyes.

“I’m afraid I have to be going. I promised Draco I’d help him set up. Shall we, Mr Potter?”

Harry shakes himself from his shock and runs his hand through his hair with a nod. “Oh of course, yes, I’ll come with you. I uhh…bye Gin. Hermione.”

Narcissa walks out of sight, presumably to the floo, and Hermione dazedly watches her. What is happening?

The floo sounds. Twice. And Ginny meets her eye, mouth falling open. “Hermione wha— how— bloody hell!”

Well. Ginny’s summed it up rather nicely.

* * *

Hermione stares down the staircase at Ginny. Umm…

Now what? Narcissa wants them to…pretend they’re dating? That they just—

Oh this is going to go horribly wrong. She’s going to have to make up a whole story for Ginny and—

But what if Narcissa’s making up her own story for Harry?

No, she needs to avoid saying anything before they’ve got their story straight.

Ha. Well. Not straight.

She turns around. And runs back into her bedroom, locking the door behind her. She needs to actually get ready now that she’s going to this dinner.

“Wha— Hermione! Get back here! I can’t believe you—”

She ignores Ginny. Pulls her dress off and walks into the bathroom. “Can’t hear you! In the shower! Go home, Ginny!”

“Oh no no no, you’re not getting away with this, Hermione Granger.”

Hermione hears the bathroom door bang open and pulls the shower curtain closed with a shriek. “Ginny! Get out!”

“No way. That is not happening. Not until you tell me _everything._ When did this happen? How did it happen? You told me you’d made up after your whole argument thing, but skipping work to— I can’t believe you did it on the second date, that’s so unlike you. Especially as the first date went so horrifically. This was your second date, right? It has to be. Unless you saw her yesterday as well but—”

Hermione decides just to stay silent and focus on showering whilst Ginny rambles on. That way Ginny can make all the assumptions, and Hermione has more time to come up with a lie. Later. Because she’s so bad at lying she’s not going to even attempt to—

“— so did we interrupt you? What’s she like in bed? Because gods, I know you got there first, but—”

What?!

She pokes her head around the shower curtain to glare at Ginny. “I’m not telling you what— and you like her? You never said that. You were making fun of me for—”

Ginny has borrowed her tweezers and is plucking her eyebrows at the sink. Hermione would really prefer it if she wouldn’t just—

“Don’t worry, Hermione. I’m not going to flirt with her or anything. She’s obviously into you anyway. But I can’t say I’m not slightly envious. Come on, it’s been ages since I shagged a witch. Tell me _something_. Anything!”

Hermione snaps the curtain shut again. “No! I can’t tell you— it’s different. She isn’t just some witch. You know her. We’ll see her at dinner tonight! I don’t want you— it’s private. And she can read your mind so—”

Ginny groans. “Merlin, I forgot about that. She can read your mind. Knows exactly what you want. Fuck that’s hot.”

Hermione’s mind begins to drift. To imagine what could have happened in that bed. Gods, Ginny’s right. Narcissa knows her _subconscious_ thoughts. She’d probably know what Hermione wants before she knew herself. She can see Hermione’s memories. Would know exactly what she likes and secretly—

She shakes herself from her thoughts. “I’m not telling you anything. If you want to know that badly, you can ask Narcissa.” Hermione grins to herself. Ginny’s wouldn’t dare. She’s much too intimidated to really—

“Maybe I will. Maybe I’ll sit next to her at dinner. Get to know my best friend’s new _girlfriend_.

Oh no.

“She’s not my— Ginny, close your eyes, I’m getting out. And pass me a towel, would you? It’s—”

“Got it, got it. Come on. I need to stop off home and get changed too, but there’s no way I’m finishing this conversation yet.”

Hermione steps out of the shower, taking the towel from Ginny with a sigh. “This conversation _is_ over. I’ll see you at Draco’s. Tonight should be about him and his trip to…where is he going?”

Ginny shrugs. “No idea. I want to say…Thailand? India? Somewhere far away and humid. I tend to stop listening when Harry and Draco are talking. It’s just _so_ frustrating. Oh! Maybe you can talk to Draco now. Give him some advice as his future _stepmother_.

Stepmother?! Oh dear Merlin— “Ginny!” She whacks her over the head. “You are such an arse! Oh I am going to— get out! Get out of my bathroom and my house and— and—”

Ginny backs away, chuckling. “I’m going, I’m going! Here I thought the sex would have mellowed you out. Tense much?”

There was no sex! Gah!

Oh shoot.

“What time’s the dinner?!” She calls after Ginny.

“Seven thirty! See you in an hour!”

One hour. One hour until…dating Narcissa…in some way.

With no plan. Just a lot of lying and thinking on her feet.

It’s going to be a disaster.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey folks! I'm back with another chapter. I'll try to update every other day if I can, just so you know.
> 
> And I've upped the rating for certain conversation topics and....future...possibilities ;)
> 
> And thanks for all the comments and kudos xx

Hermione takes a steadying breath as she steps out of the floo. It’s fine. All fine. Just your friends and a…misunderstanding. It’s not—

Draco coming towards her. Oh no. Does he know? He’s smiling…

Is that Pansy Parkinson over there?! What is _she_ doing here?! Oh no. Oh this is not good. Lying to her friends is one thing, but—

“Hermione! Harry told me you were coming, I’m glad you could make it. I know you’ve been so busy. Come and have a drink,” Draco says cheerfully, beckoning her over.

Hermione smiles through a relieved sigh. Seems like he doesn’t know. Maybe Narcissa convinced Harry to keep this a secret after all.

Not that there’s anything to keep secret. Nothing happened.

How has she somehow had an affair _without_ the actual affair? It’s all the stress and none of the— oh, say something!

“Of course I wouldn’t miss this, Draco. This will be the last time I’ll see you in…umm…quite a while. Are you…looking forward to it?”

And now she has no idea what she’s talking about. Great.

_He is travelling through Eastern Asia for one month as part of the ministry’s international relations program_

Hermione manages not to jump at Narcissa’s murmured voice. Which is good, seeing as Draco just handed her a flute of…Oh she wasn’t listening to that either. Hopefully it’s not gillywater. She hates the uncontrollable laughter.

“—and of course learn some magic along the way. I’ll be sure to bring back some books for you, if you’d like? I’ll be doing so for Mother, so it won’t be any trouble.”

Books? Mother? Oh. “That’s very nice of you, Draco, thank you. Is…umm…your mother here tonight?” _Narcissa, what does he know? What’s the—_

_Mr Potter has been sworn to secrecy. What about Miss—_

“—see her? Over there with Ginny and Pansy. Would you mind talking with them? I’m not sure any of them have much in common so—”

Oh gods, no no no. Ginny talking to Narcissa?

Hermione gives Draco a slightly manic smile as she starts to make her way across the room. “Of course. I’ll talk to you later, Draco. I’ll just…”

She practically runs to Ginny. “Ginny! There you are! Have you got a drink? I’ll get you a drink. Come on, let’s go—”

Ginny raises her eyebrows at her, lips pursed as she tries not to smile. “I…already have a drink, Hermione.” She gestures with her hand. It’s true. A full glass. Damn. “And I was just talking to Ms Black about her work at St Mungo’s. Thanking her for helping us the other day.”

Oh. Oops. She'd interrupted quite rudely.

Hermione smiles apologetically at the other witches. Parkinson is looking at her very oddly as she sips at her own drink. And Narcissa seems as polite as ever…or would, if her eyes weren’t so steely. Ah.

_Sorry. It’s just Ginny—_

_I gathered. She is still deciding whether or not to reveal our ‘relationship’_

Hermione fights to keep her face blank as she takes a sip of her drink. _It was your idea! You’re the one who started this whole fake…thing! What was I supposed to tell her?!_

Narcissa clears her throat. “Pansy, I saw that your latest fashion spread in Witch Weekly was quite the hit. Miss Weasley was recently put forward for quidditch player of the year, perhaps the two of you could conduct some sort of interview? Attract a new market of young readers and fans?”

Parkinson’s eyes gleam to life. There’s that Slytherin ambition. The bored posture vanishes, and she studies Ginny more carefully, eyes drifting over her outfit. Ginny is quite fashionable. Kind of…effortlessly. Parkinson puts down her now empty glass and leans in to whisper to Ginny.

 _Good. Now we may talk more freely. "_ I’ll give you a tour of the apartment, Miss Granger."

Hermione frowns as Narcissa takes her arm. _I’ve been here before. I don’t need—_

A sigh. _It is an excuse for us to speak privately. We need to make a decision. A cover story_

They walk out of the crowded living room and towards the back of the apartment. Where the bedrooms are. _Well people will definitely talk if you take me into another bedroom! What are you— oh the balcony_

They step outside, and Hermione casts a warming charm on them both out of habit. Used to being the sensible one. Narcissa closes the door behind them and raises an eyebrow. _So_

Hermione sighs, leaning on the railing. “So. Ginny and Harry think we…”

“Slept together. Yes.” She stands next to Hermione. Looks out at the view.

Hermione bites her lip. Okay. Just…pretend this is normal. “Do you want to carry on with the lie? Because I understand that…if your research is confidential…I’m not sure they’d believe anything else now anyway. It could be a one time thing. We could break up. Or just…it was a one night stand…in the daytime.”

_Perhaps. We…we acted impulsively, out of attraction, but we are both far too busy for a relationship. We decided it would…complicate matters if this were to continue. It just happened, and that is all_

Hermione feels her face heating up. From a fake story. Just from hearing Narcissa…

Quiet thoughts, quiet thoughts. Oh. _What about your…sleeping problem? Now that Draco will be away…if you need me—_

“I don’t _need_ anything. I’m not—”

She studies Narcissa's profile. She's looking less run down than before, but... “Narcissa. Everyone needs sleep. And until you figure out what went wrong, you’ll need someone to sleep with. I mean— not— well if they assume we’re in a relationship anyway, it’s a good excuse…”

Narcissa turns to look at her. “You would do that? Pretend, so that I may rest over the next few…I don’t know how long I will need. Two weeks? You have the AGM, I don’t wish to—”

Hermione makes a decision. Readies herself, and takes Narcissa’s hand. She has soft hands. “It’s no trouble. I’ll be asleep anyway, that’s the whole point. We can just…date…for a few weeks. Until you figure this out. And then break up, for the reason you said. Too busy. Incompatible. Wrong timing.”

Narcissa searches her eyes. Maybe is even reading her mind. It certainly feels…electric.

_Alright. Then let’s begin constructing our story. Miss Weasley will want all of the details, I am sure_

Oh. Oh dear. Does she know— can she see—

Narcissa smirks. _Oh I hope she does pluck up the courage to sit with me this evening. You are correct, she is very much intimidated by me. It shall be amusing, watching her attempt to hide her thoughts behind her bravado_

Hermione laughs. Maybe Ginny has bitten off more than she can chew.

Narcissa looks away again, out over the rooftops. “Shall we keep it as close to the truth as possible?”

The truth?

Narcissa tuts. “We met at St Mungo’s. I sent you a book. To thank me, you invited me to coffee. After an initial…misunderstanding, we spoke once more at the Burrow, where we planned a future date.”

Oh. Oh of course. “And…we ran into each other at a bookshop, and decided to go for coffee, even though I had work?”

Narcissa turns to her, eyebrow raised. “Of course. I am far more interesting than…goblin negotiations. You couldn’t resist.”

Wha— the nerve! “My work is important! I don’t want people thinking I’d ignore it just for— a pretty face!”

_You believe me to be just a pretty face?_

Uh. No— no that’s not—

_And as I recall, you did just that, Miss Granger. I swooned, and you caught me. Took me to your bed. Ordered me into it_

Narcissa definitely has a glint to her eyes now. A curve to her lip. Well, she’s not the only one who can tease. Hermione was put in Gryffindor for a reason.

“And you told me to come to bed, and ordered me to get undressed. Swooned in my arms, as you said. Is that the story? We didn’t even make it to coffee before you seduced me?”

Narcissa snaps her head round to glare at her. “Why am I the one doing the seducing? Like I’m some predatory—”

Predatory? “I’m prey? Fine. I seduced you, happy? Made some excuse to get you to come to my house for coffee. That’s how we ended up in my bed.”

Narcissa pauses. Frowns. _No, no I’ve changed my mind. I want to be the seducer._

Hermione groans. _Why does either of us have to be the seducer? No seducing. Or…mutual seducing_

_The word is seduction, Miss Granger_

She knew that. She’s just…out of sorts with this whole…

She sighs. “Remember to call me Hermione. And…what about Ginny? The…details?”

Oh she is really not ready for this conversation. She sips at her forgotten drink. Looks down at the railing.

A hand brushes over her back. _I made love to you. That is all she needs to know_

Hermione shivers. Holy fucking…

The hand retreats. “Come. We’ll be late to dinner, and then even Mr Weasley may grow suspicious. Sit beside me.”

And Hermione hears the door open. And close.

She lets out a breath.

Okay.

Narcissa made love to her.

* * *

Ginny doesn’t sit next to Narcissa. Draco sits at the head of the table, so Narcissa sits right down at his end. Her last chance to talk to him before his big trip. Harry sits opposite Narcissa, on Draco’s other side. Because…well. Just friends. Right.

Which means Hermione is in the fun position of having Narcissa on one side and Ginny whispering in her ear from the other. And Ron sat opposite her, completely oblivious to the looks she’s getting from all sides other than briefly mouthing ‘good luck’ to her on spotting Narcissa. He must think they never made up after their argument.

She’s not even sure why he’s here. He’s only friends with Draco through Harry. And…quidditch. All they have in common is quidditch.

“This is really good, Draco. What is that, coriander? And mustard seeds?”

Draco smiles at Ron. “Yes, you really like it? The recipe said a pinch and I’m never sure if—”

“No, I mean it. So good. I’ll have to nick the recipe before you go.”

Huh. And food. Which Ron is eating…very enthusiastically. Occasionally elbowing Harry or Parkinson as he tucks in. His palate may have improved, but not his table manners.

Harry smiles at Draco. Somewhat sadly. “I’m sure you’ll learn so many more recipes on your travels. We’ll have to have another dinner to welcome you back.”

Draco’s smile falls. There’s an awkward silence while he and Harry stare at each other. How do they not know?!

_I haven’t the faintest idea. Perhaps this time apart will allow them to see what they truly miss_

Hermione jumps, accidentally kicking Ron’s leg. She can’t help it. His legs are so long they’re everywhere. He frowns at her in confusion, and then begins eating a bit slower. Taking smaller bites. Well, that’s a bonus.

 _Could you maybe warn me before doing that? I’m not used to voices in my head!_ she snaps at Narcissa, heartbeat quickening. This is already too stressful.

 _Fine_ comes Narcissa’s soft voice.

Narcissa smiles at Draco. “The food is wonderful. Where is it you’re portkeying to first? Beijing?”

And Hermione chokes on her drink as a hand squeezes her knee.

_There, is that enough warning?_

No. No, that is not—

Ginny leans in to whisper in her ear. “Oh dear Merlin, is she touching you under the table?! Whilst talking to Draco? Ew!”

That isn’t—

“Are you alright, Hermione?” Harry frowns. And then glances at Narcissa, eyes widening.

“I’m fine, I— just swallowed the wrong way. Some water will—”

Narcissa refills her glass with a concerned look. “Here, allow me.”

Now Draco is squinting his eyes, suspicious.

“Thank you, Na— Ms Black.” This is so confusing! She has to pretend…to pretend…that she’s not in a relationship with Narcissa? What are they even trying to do at this point?

_Narcissa, do you want Draco to know or not? Are we faking this for him too?_

_I’d rather he not know anything about my sex life, fake or otherwise. No, we only have to let Miss Weasley and Mr Potter think what they will, and have an answer ready if they should ask_

_And if Draco asks? He’s studying you rather closely_

Draco is definitely analysing his mother. Raises an eyebrow at her in question. Narcissa just shakes her head dismissively and passes him the salad.

Hermione focuses back on eating, ignoring the elbow in her side from Ginny, and the hand that is for some reason _still_ resting on her knee. It’s Narcissa’s right hand, how is she—

_Left-handed, Miss Granger. You should know that, if we are courting_

Hermione snorts into her wine glass. Courting? She forgets how old-fashioned purebloods can be.

 _Oh, my apologies. Which term would you prefer? Lovers? Paramours? Just fucking?_ Narcissa clips.

A strange sound comes out of Hermione’s mouth, and the table goes silent as everyone turns to look.

Right. That’s it. She’s getting out of here.

“I’m so sorry, Draco, I’m not feeling very well. I hate to do this to you after I already showed up so unexpectedly, but I think I’ll have to leave.”

 _Leave?!_ Narcissa hisses. _I thought you agreed—_

Draco gives her a sympathetic look. “Oh Hermione, don’t worry about it. If you’re unwell you should—”

 _I agreed to fake it for Harry and Ginny. Not Draco. You said you don’t want him knowing anything anyway_ Hermione argues back. This whole thing doesn’t make any sense. It’s like Narcissa is deliberately making this more difficult. Voices and hands and _—_

She gets to her feet. “Have a wonderful time, Draco. I’m sure I’ll hear all your news from Harry, but I’d love it if you’d keep in touch. All of the— the magic, and culture and— and books.”

Gods, she can’t stop rambling. “If you stop by a bookshop for Nar— your mother then I really would like a book too. Only if you have time. Nothing special. I’m not your mother so— I mean— of course I’m not—”

Ginny holds back a laugh. Unsuccessfully. Oh just shut up, Hermione!

_Yes, please do just stop talking!_

Argh, will she just—

She whirls to face Narcissa. “Stop—!”

Her voice echoes around the room.

Oh no. That was out loud.

“—stop…by any time, Narcissa. With Draco away…you…” she drifts off. She can’t think of any way to save this. _Help me!_

Narcissa stands up with a smile. Passes Hermione the handbag that she had completely forgotten about, still hanging on her chair. “Thank you for the kind offer, Miss Granger. It will be quieter without Draco around. I look forward to what I’m sure will be some fascinating conversations. I’m sorry you are feeling unwell, do you feel able to use the floo, or shall I escort you home?”

Now it’s Harry’s turn to cover a laugh with a cough.

Hermione forces herself to relax and smile back at Narcissa. “No. No, I’ll be alright, thank you.” _That’s what you want, isn’t it? To stay here with Draco?_

Narcissa nods and sits down. _Yes. Perhaps…tomorrow night? My house or yours for our…sleeping together?_

Hermione waves goodbye to the table of people and heads towards the floo. And shakes her head with a defeated chuckle. _We can sleep together wherever, I don’t mind. Your house has more bedrooms, how far is your mental radius?_

She stands in front of the fireplace. Waits for a reply.

_As I said. For you? One mile. Separate beds will be fine_

Okay. That makes things a little less awkward. _I’ll see you tomorrow night then_

_Until tomorrow, Miss Granger_

Right. She steps into the floo.


	8. Chapter 8

The next day just flies by as Hermione catches up with all the tasks she was _supposed_ to be doing the day before. Instead of sleeping with Narcissa.

She’s given up calling it anything else. She slept with Narcissa. She’s going to sleep with Narcissa. For the next however many nights.

And it’s night-time now. She finished dinner an hour ago. And still no word from Narcissa.

Should she floo her? They never said a time…

Or a specific place. She— she’s rather nervous about…going to the Manor. She’s avoided it as much as possible since— since the war. And she knows it’s silly. It’s just a house. She’ll be fine upstairs in one of the bedrooms.

But downstairs? In the entrance hall? Well…

The floo sounds, thankfully interrupting her thoughts.

Harry’s head? Oh no.

She plasters a smile on her face. “Harry! What a…nice surprise. Are…” she drifts off. Ah. “Harry, are you okay?”

He clears his throat. “Could I…can we hang out…for a bit? If you’re not busy. I’m sorry. I know you have work and—”

Hermione tuts. “Don’t be ridiculous, Harry. Come through.” He’s obviously upset. And this does make things a little trickier, but she’s not going to turn him away.

He smiles gratefully, disappears for a moment, and steps through. And hugs her.

Oh. Oh, he really is—

She sees a flash of green as the floo activates again, and hurriedly casts a silencio at it.

Narcissa arrives. And freezes.

Hermione squeezes Harry tighter to prolong the hug. _What are you doing here?! We said—_

_I thought I’d side-apparate you. In order to negotiate the wards and avoid the…foyer_

Oh. Well that’s nice of her but—

Harry pulls back. “Thanks. I guess I’m just feeling a bit…lost, with Draco leaving and…everyone is so busy. Going places. I guess I— I haven’t been enjoying work and—”

Oh no. This is one of those long ‘talk into the night’ conversations.

Narcissa sneaks her hand towards the floo powder from behind him. She can’t quite reach. _I’ll just leave. Mr Potter needs— I’m sure I can cope without one night’s sleep_

No but— _You have to get some sleep! I’ll try to leave later. I’ll send you a patronus to let you know and—_

Focus. Harry.

She rubs her hands over Harry’s shoulders, making sure he doesn’t turn around. “That’s normal, Harry. Things are going a bit slow at work for you since the last of…his supporters were rounded up. And that’s good, of course it is. It means you’ve done your job. Just let yourself relax. Maybe catch up with…Neville. Visit Hogwarts. Everyone would love to see you. And—oh!”

Narcissa was on the verge of leaving, having accioed the floo powder towards her, but now Crookshanks has spotted her. Has walked into the fireplace.

Harry frowns at her. “What? What is it?”

_Your cat will not— how do I—_

Hermione tries desperately to keep her face blank as Narcissa hisses in her head and glares down at Crookshanks. She can’t see what her cat is doing but—

“Umm…nothing, Harry. I just thought— why don’t you see Hagrid tomorrow? Go for a nice chat? It’s been a while and—”

_It is ruining my dress with its claws and— I am not a tree! Command your familiar off of me, Hermione. It—_

Hermione rubs a hand over her mouth to hide her smile, desperately fighting back laughter.

Harry gives her an unsure look. “You think? Tomorrow’s Thursday, I should really stay in the office. I do have some free days to use…am I making a fuss over nothing? I’ll just be in the way at Hogwarts. Distracting the kids from learning. All the press will get a hold of it. Everything is such a hassle! It—”

 _Miss Granger. Hermione, will you—_ “Ow!”

Oh no.

Harry spins around. “Expelliarmus— oh.”

He distractedly catches Narcissa’s wand as it flies from her hand. Looks at it. Looks back at Narcissa. And Crookshanks, slowly climbing up Narcissa’s side. Like she’s a tree.

Hermione lets out a long sigh. Of course this is happening.

Harry turns to her, eyebrows raised, and she just shakes her head. Walks away from this mess and into the kitchen to put the cat food in the dish. Crookshanks comes running.

Fine. Fake dating. “Yes, Harry. Narcissa is here. She was just leaving when you arrived and— she came for dinner.”

There. Plausible.

Although still painfully embarrassing. Why does Harry have to be in love with Narcissa’s _son?_ It

makes everything—

She walks back into the living room. Narcissa is sliding her wand back into her pocket, Harry running a hand through his hair. “Sorry. I’ve interrupted— I’ll get going. It’s nothing. Not important. I’ll—” he stutters.

Oh for the—

Hermione marches Harry over to the sofa and pushes him down. “Sit. I’ll get you a cup of tea. You’re staying for a chat. You didn’t interrupt anything. Narcissa has some research to do tomorrow—"

_Don’t you dare tell him—!_

“— so she needs to be getting home,” Hermione finishes with a tense smile. _I wasn’t going to! Why would I tell him after making up a story anyway?!_

“Hermione is quite right, Mr Potter. I must be going. I was merely stalled by…Crookshanks.”

How on Earth does she know— oh. Mind reading.

Harry looks between them awkwardly. Pushes his glasses up his nose. Nervous habit.

Umm…Narcissa isn’t leaving.

_You have not yet said goodbye. Is this how you treat all of your paramours?_

Oh. Oh!

She walks over to Narcissa. Smiles at her. Ignores the way her stomach is flipping. “Thank you again for this evening, Narcissa. It was wonderful. And I’d love to meet again for coffee during the week, if you have time of course?”

Narcissa smiles back. A wide smile as she strokes Hermione’s arm. “I’m sure I’ll find time for you. And I think you owe me a coffee after what your cat has done to my clothes.”

Oh dear.

Hermione looks down at Narcissa’s dress. Definite claw marks. Oh, and he hurt her!

She runs her hand over Narcissa’s waist where there’s a noticeable tear. “I’m so sorry I— are you hurt? His claws can be sharp and— did he scratch you? You cried out. What did he—”

Narcissa presses a hand over Hermione’s mouth. _Screaming, Miss Granger_ she jokes.

Oh. _You’re alright?_

Narcissa chuckles. “I’m fine. Just a scratch. It’s nothing. Goodnight, Hermione.”

Narcissa slowly moves her hand away, and Hermione nods. Dating. Normally she’d kiss someone by the third date, but probably not in front of Harry, so…

She presses her lips to Narcissa’s cheek. Lingers. Hopes her mind has stopped screaming, because her heart is certainly beating rather wildly. “Goodnight, Narcissa,” she whispers into the witch’s ear.

And pulls away. Tries not to drown in Narcissa’s eyes as she continues to stare at Hermione.

And then the trance is broken as Narcissa turns around. Throws the floo powder into the grate and spins away.

Harry clears his throat from behind her.

Right.

* * *

Hermione groans, reaching for another biscuit. “Harry! Why won’t you just admit it? What are you scared of? He obviously likes you and—”

“—and that is complete nonsense! And— and why are you trying to see into my non-existent love life, when you very clearly have a lot more going on.”

“No. No, Harry, we’ve been through this, we moved past this.”

Harry laughs. “Well I’m circling back. Narcissa. Do you know how hard it is not telling Draco about this? He noticed all your strange behaviour yesterday, you know. And I’m not sure I want to _know_ what she was—”

Hermione slams her cup down on the coffee table. “She was not touching me!” she hisses.

Harry freezes. Grins. “…I was going to say, I don’t want to know what she was saying in your head to make you choke. She was touching— oh. What kind of touching? Draco was right next to her and—”

Hermione buries her face in her hands. “There was no touching! Well, she touched my knee. But only because I told her to warn me before…speaking in my head. Shut up. I know.”

Harry adds another spoonful of sugar to his tea. Stirs it in. “Was she really leaving tonight? Why was she just…there? How did I not see her before? Because really, if you had plans, I’m— I’m feeling a lot better now. Honestly. This has been really nice, and I think I will see Hagrid tomorrow. Pop by Hogwarts.”

Oh. This might be a good excuse. It’s nearing midnight, and poor Narcissa won’t be able to sleep without her.

She nods sharply. Looks down at her tea. “She…she was leaving. But I was going to go with her. To…her house.”

Silence.

Okay. She was right. This is too weird.

Harry takes her hand. Huh?

She looks up. He’s smiling at her. “I think she really likes you, you know. I’ve been friends with Draco for a long time, and she doesn’t open up with anyone like she does with you. I know it’s only been a few days, but you have this…energy, when you’re together. I’m so happy you’re just going for it with her.”

Umm…what? Her mouth falls open as she tries to find something to say.

He gets to his feet with a laugh. “I’m serious! What are you doing here with me? It’s not that late. Go! I can tell you’re itching to go see her. You keep looking at the clock.”

Oh no, he noticed? That’s so rude! She can’t believe she—

Harry backs over to the floo, hands raised. “It’s fine! Hey, I’m pretty cool, but I’m no Narcissa Black.” He arches an eyebrow, tilts his chin up, and smirks. It’s ridiculous. She loves Harry so much.

She waves at him as he disappears into the green flames. Crookshanks walks out of the kitchen with a pleased purr.

Hermione folds her arms at him. “Don’t act so smug. That could have gone very badly. And my gir— fake girlfriends are not for climbing!”

Crookshanks just blinks at her. Fine. Time to go.

* * *

In the end, Hermione doesn’t bother with a patronus. Just grabs a bag with her clothes and toiletries and floos to the Manor. Steps out in the entrance hall and shuts her eyes. Takes a few slow breaths. It’s fine. The fear is irrational. It’s been years. You’re okay.

_Miss Granger? I thought you were going to send a patronus? You don’t have to…one moment_

And Hermione flinches as a hand grabs her arm.

No no no no. Get off. Get off of—

It’s a fake. The sword’s a fake it—

_Oh I didn’t mean— Hermione it’s alright. It’s only me, I apparated us upstairs, I—_

Hermione can’t breathe. She’s on top of her and she’s heavy and— and she’s got a knife and—

And…the floor is soft?

_Sssh. It’s alright. Everything is alright. You’re safe. That’s right, you can feel the bed, can’t you? Focus on that. On how soft it is. Warm. You’re somewhere soft and warm and calm_

That doesn’t make sense. It is soft. Why…

_Hermione, do you think you could open your eyes? It will help you feel better. You’re in a bedroom. You’re lying on a bed_

A bed?

She opens her eyes. Oh.

She’s curled sideways on a bed. Looking at a cream wall. And a dresser.

Her hands are clenched in sheets. She pries them open. Licks her lips and sits up. Oh how stupid. That was so—

Narcissa is stood by the window. She turns around to face her. _Not stupid at all. Perfectly understandable. Can I get you a glass of water? Or…oh. Oh, I’m doing it again, I— for Salazar’s sake!_

What? Oh. Oh it just crossed her mind. That Narcissa did that before. Stood and watched when…

Narcissa walks over. Sits down on the bed with her. “I don’t know if— I’m not sure how best to proceed. What should I do, Miss Granger?”

Is that concern on Narcissa’s face? Shame?

_Yes. Yes, I’m ashamed. Tell me how to…where to go from here. Please_

Hermione lets her breathing slow. Runs a hand over her hair to tame it a bit. And let’s herself stare at Narcissa. Really look at her. Take her in.

The pinch to her brow. Slight widening of her eyes. Hand clenched in the bedding. Worried. Not Narcissa Malfoy. Narcissa Black. Healer. Friend.

Hermione smiles. Fake girlfriend. “A glass of water would be good. And maybe you could think of a new conversation topic for when you get back?”

Narcissa just frowns at her. “You think of me as a friend?”

What?

Oh.

Well…

Hermione shrugs. “I suppose. It’s the closest…there isn’t really a word for what we are. Sleeping partners? Co-conspirators? Personal carers to the sleep deprived and hallucinators? Lovers that never make love?”

Oh. Oh she can’t believe she just said that. It just fell out of her mouth. Make love?

Narcissa stand up with a smirk. _All of the above. Although I fear you just described marriage. I’ll fetch you that glass of water, darling_

And her heart rate soars back up again. Is this witch trying to kill her?!

The room falls into silence as Narcissa leaves. Hermione looks around. Wow. Very expensive…everything. It feels wrong just touching anything. Like it all belongs in a museum.

At least she has magic, so if anything breaks she can fix it.

_Already planning on breaking more of my belongings? And I thought the ruined dress was enough for one day_

A pun about ruined underwear flashes into her mind. Shit.

Oh she wishes she could just turn off her brain. Just turn it off at the end of every workday so she could stop embarrassing herself for once. Or maybe they could turn off Narcissa’s Hermione-radar. That would be better.

_…we could…try to do something about that_

About the radar? Is this part of her research?

_Not exactly, but it is related. Perhaps not tonight, but if at some point you would allow me to…enter your mind…we may be able to find the problem, and therefore the solution_

Come into her mind? Isn’t she already there? Isn’t that the problem?

Hang on. Why is Narcissa taking so long to get a glass of water? She has magic. She can apparate. And cast an aguamenti. Is she hiding from her?!

_Stop shouting, Hermione. I am merely allowing you some space. My presence was…distressing to you_

Ugh. You’d think a mind reader wouldn’t get the wrong end of the stick so often. _Narcissa, it was your presence that helped me. You talking to me. Seeing you. Get back here!_

_I don’t take orders, Miss Granger. I’m not a—_

_House-elf? I know. We had this misunderstanding already, we don’t need another one. Now would you please come back?_

Narcissa apparates into the room. Somehow still holding the glass of water steady. It’s quite impressive.

Hermione takes the glass of water, mouthing a thank you before taking a sip. She’s really thirsty, that whole…episode really took it out of her. What’s the time? It must be gone midnight.

Narcissa sighs. “Yes. It is late. I should leave you to rest. Use anything you wish in the en-suite. Soap, towels, what have you. And I normally have breakfast at seven if you wish to join me. If not, then feel free—”

Is she rambling? That’s unlike—

Narcissa glares. “I am not rambling, I am merely— fine. Do as you please. I suppose I shall see you if we _happen_ to cross paths. Goodnight.”

Narcissa whirls around and marches out of the room. Wow. What just happened? She just thought it felt…forced, that’s all. Overly polite.

_Overly polite? How can one be overly polite? It is common decency to—_

Another misunderstanding?!

Hermione shakes her head in exasperation, beginning to get undressed. _Goodnight, darling._ She jokes. _Sleep well_

Silence in her head. Thank goodness for that. She pulls her pyjamas on.

_Hermione?_

Her voice is softer. Warm.

_Yes?_

_Thank you for doing this_

Oh. Well. It’s nothing. _Get some rest, Narcissa. I’ll see you in the morning for breakfast_


	9. Chapter 9

There’s a problem. It’s been an hour, and Hermione can’t sleep. She just can’t get her thoughts to quieten. To calm down. She must be driving Narcissa insane with all her shouting.

Not that she knows that. Narcissa hasn’t said anything this whole time. Giving her some privacy. But she can obviously hear.

Unless she slept through it.

Hermione turns over once again. She thinks it’s the big room. She’s not used to a bedroom this big. She feels…on display.

She tries to distract herself. Focus on her breathing.

Okay…the real problem is…

Normally, when she can’t get to sleep, she…fantasizes. About certain…things. Things that she definitely can’t think about if Narcissa can hear her. It’s bad enough shouting her thoughts. It’s even worse that she can’t stop her subconscious having thoughts about Narcissa. But to be _consciously_ constructing fantasies in her head? That’s just wrong. So wrong. She can’t put Narcissa through that.

So she just has to make herself go to sleep another way. Count sheep. Or do arithmancy.

She tries that. Complex arithmancy. Or potions instructions.

She begins thinking about felix felicis. It’s complicated enough to occupy her—

_If you make one more calculation I am going to scream. Turn. Off. Your. Brain_

Ah! Oh no. Awake. As she thought.

_I’m sorry. I’ve tried everything. I just— my brain gets overactive sometimes and—_

_You haven’t_

Umm, what? _Pardon?_

A sigh in her head. _You have not tried everything. I know how you usually get to sleep. You’ve been thinking around the idea for an hour_

Oh no. No no. No that’s— that is not—

_Hermione, I can already see your thoughts. I’m afraid you are not hiding everything_

See her— what is she thinking?! She’s not _consciously_ — what is her brain shouting?

_Oh. Oh I thought you were aware. It is…nothing to be embarrassed by. Perhaps I’ll stop talking now. Let you rest. If you—_

No, she has to know now. Not knowing is worse. _Narcissa, what am I thinking? Tell me_

Silence.

Back to ignoring?

Hermione rolls over onto her stomach. Begins counting sheep.

_It is not…a full thought. Just…an urge. Your brain is searching for internal stimuli, because your external stimuli is not sufficiently…satisfying. The first go to is therefore pleasure. Carnal pleasure—oh_

Oh Godric. She can’t say carnal pleasure and then say ‘oh’ like that. That should be illegal. The slight surprise in her voice. What surprised her?

_I…nothing. It is unimportant. Goodnight_

She can’t do that!

Hermione sits up in bed. _Narcissa! What? You can’t be surprised by my brain and then not say why. What did it do?_

She really doesn’t think she’s thinking anything special right now. She’s curious. That’s it. And annoyed that it’s already gone one in the morning and she has to be awake in six hours.

There’s no reply. She wishes Narcissa was actually here so she could grab her and make her answer.

She lies back down. Wriggles until the covers are laid out flat over her. Now brain, go to sleep. You don’t need stimuli. It’s bedtime.

She closes her eyes and listens to herself breathe. Imagines she’s floating on the sea. Calm. Warm in the sunshine. Feels the water under her back and—

_Please. Please not water. I am unable to swim_

Oh.

 _Sorry_ she whispers.

Afraid of water. Note to self.

Oh, also _— I forgot that legilimency can be visual. Like the—_

_Yes, like the image you shared with me of Draco and Mr Potter. Don’t— stop thinking about it!_

_I can’t help it! I don’t know how to control my thoughts_

_I am very much aware! You are in great need of occlumency lessons. I— no. No, it would not be painful. Severus’ approach with Mr Potter was far from appropriate. Were he licensed, he would have lost it for such brutish, sadistic—_

Wow. She’d thought Narcissa liked Snape.

_Not when he was tormenting children and sullying the art of occlumency. Oh. No, no I am nothing like him. That subtle art speech of his is pure dramatics, not—_

Did Narcissa just see her memories of Snape? How much is she seeing, because it seems like a lot. Oh no. That means there have been a _lot_ of sexual thoughts coming her way.

Narcissa falls silent.

Yes. Just like that.

_I hope I’m not causing you any embarrassment, Miss Granger. I have had the…double-edged sword of legilimency as my gift and burden my whole life. I am not fazed by stray thoughts, whatever their nature. And that is what they are. Natural. Impossible to fully control, even for the most accomplished occlumens_

Well it may be natural, but it’s still embarrassing. It’s reminding her of when her parents sat her down for a sex talk. Except worse, because she’s attracted to Narcissa. And just thought that clear as day. Great.

 _Would it help if I shared my thoughts with you?_ Narcissa murmurs.

Oh. Umm… _In what way?_

And she’s suddenly hit with hundreds of thoughts, all blurred together.

_…so tired…soft…new sheets…thirsty…wet…makes her wet…alone too…shoes are…didn’t send the…orange juice?...time is…baby….Draco…so sore but…smell….need to control…pain…where is…enough time but…end of March…sleep…Hermione…why so…let go…touch…remember the…just one…paper at the…need to…hot…tension need…not long…wish…what time…sleep…dark…_

Whoa. Okay that is too much and— what was that? Some of those thoughts were— oh it’s so loud and— ugh she can’t think. Make it stop, make it—

Silence.

She breathes a sigh of relief.

Oh.

_You hear that all the time? It’s exhausting!_

A chuckle. _Not quite like that, but similar. Those were my subconscious thoughts. Unfiltered. The ones you are currently projecting at me. I am usually able to tune those out, and merely hear more…finished thoughts, so to speak. Although you often shout those too_

Oh that is awful. No wonder Narcissa gets so frustrated with her all the time. Shouting all of that?

_Again, not quite. Not all the time. You…fade in and out_

How strange. And fascinating. She wonders what the reason is, the cause. Researching this topic must be complex but extremely interesting. She wishes she knew more about it.

_I shall have to record my…predicament as part of my research. And the volume of your thoughts is another unseen anomaly. I will need you to sign a confidentiality agreement, but also, if possible, I should like to interview you. Investigate this anomaly and record our findings. I was not exaggerating when I said that your mind was a puzzle. That I wished to analyse every inch—oh_

No no no Hermione’s mind is—

Image after image of Narcissa analysing her. Focusing all of her attention on— on her body. That’s what Hermione is thinking about. No matter how hard she tries, she— this is Narcissa’s fault for bringing it up _again_. Maybe Narcissa is the one that needs to be more disciplined with her thoug—

No. Discipline. No— not— punished for—

Hermione groans into her pillow. Is Narcissa seeing this? She has to be. Hermione can’t stop—

Bare skin and— and what Narcissa would sound like if—

No. No stop it. Go to sleep. Just go to—

She knows what Narcissa looks like when she’s just woken up. Hair everywhere and— and she’s heard Narcissa groan and— she’s touched her before. They’ve both grabbed each other. A kiss on her cheek that she can imagine pressed to—

Hermione, calm down. It’s two in the morning on a Wednesday night. You need to stop all this and go to sleep, or you will be a mess in the meeting. You’ve barely had time to prepare as it is and—

_You have it all prepared. There is no need to worry. It is all there. In your mind. It is so well thought out I would be able to hold your meeting for you_

Hermione doesn’t know whether to be relieved by that, or even more anxious that Narcissa is still listening. Has been this whole time.

Definitely time to go to sleep. _Sorry again. Goodnight, Narcissa_

Silence.

Suddenly the silent room is very much a relief. The bedding warm. Ah. So that’s what her brain had been stressing about. The meeting.

She can finally relax, tiredness hitting her and blurring…thinking about…what was she…

Drifts to sleep.

* * *

Hermione groans at the sound of her wand alarm buzzing. Already? She feels like she just closed her eyes. Oh.

She sits up. She forgot. At the Manor.

Her alarm was set for seven. Narcissa has breakfast at—

_I am only just awakening myself. Would you like me to apparate us to the dining room? If not, you shall have to…negotiate downstairs_

Oh. Oh it’s so ridiculous but—

_Could you? Maybe…in half an hour?_

Once she’s used the bathroom, gotten dressed, and woken up a bit. She is probably not looking her best at the moment.

_Alright. I shall collect you shortly_

Hermione smiles to herself as she heads to the bathroom. How strange that she’s somehow attached herself to Narcissa. They barely spend a moment apart.

And what’s stranger, is it somehow doesn’t seem strange. In half a week they’ve certainly found themselves jumping some relationship hoops.

She decides to have a quick shower, hoping she won’t be keeping Narcissa waiting.

_There is no rush. I am showering also_

Oh. Oh— Nope. Oh it’s started again. Narcissa in the shower. Both of them. Showering toge—

Hermione grits her teeth, scrubbing herself a little too hard in frustration and the need to just get this over with. She needs to get out of this shower as soon as possible before her thoughts—

It’s going to be a long day.

* * *

Hermione smiles shyly at Narcissa as she sits down at the table, suddenly nervous. Speaking in their heads is one thing, but seeing Narcissa again just reminds her exactly who she’s been talking to. The witch is just so put together. Stunning, even in lime green healer’s robes. How does she do that? Hermione still feels half asleep and uncomfortably flushed from the hot shower.

“Oh Salazar’s snake! For the love of— oh I am going to hex that damned smirk off of her—”

Umm…what?!

Narcissa is snarling curse after curse from behind this morning’s newspaper, scrunching the edges between her fists before slamming it down on the table with a growl.

Wow.

What—

Narcissa turns the Prophet around and slides it towards her. Jabbing her finger at— oh….no…

> _Gryffindor Golden Girl Back to Her Gold Digging…_

No no no. Oh she is going to kill Rita Skeeter! Who has she paired her up with this time? Harry and Luna were a couple last week, apparently, but— and she can’t even blackmail her anymore! Skeeter registered her animagus form after the war. Said she was using it to spy for the light and so kept it off the record. Twisted some arms and lined some pockets to…

Hermione scans the front page…turns to page seven for the continued…

> _…master, or should I say mistress, of seduction, running out of eligible wizards, has turned her sights on none other than Britain’s richest witch: Narcissa Black._

Hermione lets out a strangled sound, covering her mouth. How does she know?! How did—

_Reginald Ainselby_

Hermione looks up, frowning. “What?”

Narcissa shakes her head with a sigh. “She mentions the bookshop. Mr Ainselby is the only person to know that detail. And…if I recall correctly…I believe he is her cousin.”

Cousin?

Oh dear. “So…this is revenge? For the books?”

Narcissa nods, pouring them both a cup of tea. Hermione might need something stronger to get through this morning. Her meeting…

Oh this is not good for diplomacy.

 _Yes, the wine is indeed calling, but probably should not be listened to at this time in the morning_ Narcissa half-jokes.

Hermione can’t help but laugh. “Probably not. But at least this solves our question.”

She deliberately hides her thoughts as much as possible as Narcissa looks up at her, eyebrow raised in question.

Hermione grins. “Looks like I’m the seducer. Sorry. The people have spoken.”

Narcissa attempts a steely expression, but her lip twitches at the corner. “No, _Rita Skeeter_ has spoken. And I am going to make it my mission to prove her wrong.”

Prove her wrong? Hermione begins eating some fruit and yoghurt, definitely too nervous now for a heavier breakfast. _What do you mean? Do you want to break up our fake relationship? Because I understand now that it might—_

Narcissa pulls the Prophet back towards her, eyes darting down the page. “No, that’s not what I meant. Listen to this— _the poor Ms Black_ , _knocking on fifty and with no husband to warm her icy bed, has in her desperation fallen into Miss Granger’s cunning trap. The Brightest Witch of her age is never short of tricks, and it seems even the former slytherin Ice Queen is no match_ — it’s ridiculous! And very poorly written. Am I the lonely, desperate housewitch, or the cold hearted slytherin Queen? She is creating contrasting images. Probably because she can’t quite stop herself from portraying me as…”

Narcissa tuts, waving her hand and gesturing at the page.

And then puts the paper down again, shaking her head. “But that is beside the point. We cannot have people thinking that I am pathetically clawing for attention, or that you are so shallow as to— it’s nonsense. You have money in your own right. The head of a ministerial department. How she thinks she can walk all over you as if you are still a schoolgirl is—”

Hermione is astonished. She’s angry on Hermione’s behalf? She doesn’t think she’s ever seen Narcissa so expressive. Not that she’s known her for very long but…

Cold ice queen? Definitely not.

Hermione reaches across the table and takes Narcissa’s hand. Face set with determination.

Narcissa pauses mid-rant to stare down at their joined hands. And then flicks her gaze up to meet Hermione’s. Hermione grins. “Let’s get her. Tell me what you want to do. You’re right, you’re the slytherin. What’s your cunning plan?”

Narcissa’s eyes flash, an energy filling her expression that seems to make her almost vibrate, even whilst her face remains perfectly controlled. “Ms Skeeter has picked a fight with the wrong witches. I’ve met my match? She’s met her match. Between us, we have put more funds, more efforts, towards post-war relations than anyone besides Mr Potter himself. Our ‘relationship’ is a diplomatic goldmine. The Golden Girl brokering peace between all races, beings and creatures, has won the heart of, as Ms Skeeter put so succinctly, ‘the former slytherin Ice Queen’. She came after you. A war hero. Let’s tarnish _her_ reputation. Have her be the pathetic witch clawing for a scrap of attention.”

Uhh…

That will make their relationship very public. Is she sure it—

Narcissa takes her other hand too. Squeezes tightly. _She has already made our relationship public. Let’s do it our way. If I am to be your lover, I’m going to do it properly. Come to lunch with me today. We’ll show people a romance for the ages. A pair so perfect they can predict the other’s every thought. Use the damned legilimency to our advantage_

Hermione’s brain hasn’t quite caught up enough to respond, still stuck on ‘if I am to be your lover’.

Should they do this? It does seem to be out of their hands already.

And if they can finally get Rita Skeeter out of the Prophet…

Okay. But— _Not lunch. At least not a public one. This has to seem genuine. Real. Neither of us would be comfortable parading around a new relationship, would we? We need to be as ‘secretive’ as possible. Be caught accidentally. Our relationship is for us, not other people_

Narcissa seems to consider this, and then nods, getting to her feet. “Fine. Then I shall _accidentally_ draw attention to myself as I leave St Mungo’s for lunch, and will meet you at a small, secluded café away from prying eyes. It won’t be long before the gossip mill starts whirring after this morning’s paper.”

Hermione gets up too. She should be getting going _._ “Alright. I’m free between—”

_I know. And I shall owl you the details. Be ‘subtle’ when you receive my missive so that your colleagues do not suspect anything_

Oh dear Merlin her colleagues. And her friends. She’s going to be getting owls all day with everyone—

That’s the point, Hermione. Don’t chicken out now. You’re a Gryffindor. And it’s not exactly a hardship. Or too far from the truth. Ginny and Harry had been teasing her about her coffee date with Narcissa days ago. Moving from coffee to lunch isn’t a big step. They just had breakfast together. The only difference is…

Narcissa has paused in the doorway, waiting for her. Oh. The wards. And the floo at the entrance.

She hurries over to take her arm. “I think if you apparate me just outside the floo, I should be fine. As long as I keep my eyes closed.”

Narcissa hovers her hand over Hermione’s arm…and then holds her by the waist instead. Hermione shivers.

_I thought I would avoid…you reacted badly when I touched your arm before. Is this better?_

Umm, definitely better.

_Good. Close your eyes_

Hermione does so, heart hammering as Narcissa tightens her hold…and her feet touch the ground once more.

She keeps her eyes shut. There’s just one…

_Narcissa? What point are we at in our relationship? Harry and Ginny think we…how intimate will this date be? What are you comfortable with?_

Narcissa hums into her head. _I suppose…this shall be our fourth date. Within a week. Gosh, we move fast. We have created quite the scandal. It’s rather amusing_

Hermione laughs. “I know, how did this happen? I never move this fast with anyone. I’m surprised my friends are buying it, but they are. Harry said we have an…energy.”

“An energy? I’ve had barely a scrap of energy over these past few days. How bizarre. And yet he can’t sense the energy between himself and my son? Mr Potter is quite the contradiction.”

Hermione is starting to feel ridiculous, stood with her eyes shut. Maybe she should—

_Wait. Don’t put yourself under unnecessary stress. I’ll…_

Hermione stumbles as Narcissa walks her backwards, presumably into the floo. She feels her back hit a brick wall. Oh.

Hermione has to open her eyes. She just has to.

And Narcissa is so close she fills her vision, blocking out the hallway. Hermione isn’t even thinking about the hallway anymore. Just how warm Narcissa feels against her, hand still on her waist and…

And blue eyes. Staring into hers.

Hermione licks her lips. _This will be our fourth date. I would— I would normally kiss someone by the fourth date_

And the eyes before her drift down to her lips. Narcissa leans in closer…head tilting. And she doesn’t stop. Continues forwards until the sides of their noses brush together. Hermione feels hot breath against her lips, her own breath stuck in her throat. Her eyes fall closed once more.

_Oh, I think we are far past kissing, Miss Granger. Hermione. So tell me. Who kissed whom first?_

And her held breath comes out as a shaky sigh. Oh Merlin. Godric, she— _You— you kissed me_

Narcissa moves fractionally closer. Still not quite touching. _You’re sure, darling? You didn’t seduce me?_

Hermione’s lips are buzzing. Heart stuttering and— and gods if her legs aren’t— _Narcissa, if you want to be the seducer, then you’d better get on with it before I—_

Lips press to hers. Firm and…is Narcissa grinning against her lip? That feels like tee—ah!—oh. A deliberate bite. And then a hot tongue that…

Hermione finally remembers to respond. Pulls Narcissa closer and opens her mouth to her. She’s just so surprised by— romance? No, this is far from a tender—

The kiss turns soft. Warm. Languid and exploratory. _Is this what you truly want? Because your mind said otherwise…_

Hermione bites down on Narcissa’s lip in surprise, shuddering. Legilimency. She can— so Hermione wanted—

Narcissa gasps. Did Hermione hurt her with—? _No. No, believe me it was most welcome. But we don’t have long. Show me. Imagine how I seduced you. On Tuesday, after I told you to come to bed, what did I do?_

Fuck. Imagine it? She can barely think. She can’t focus to even move her hands from Narcissa’s back, let alone—

_No ideas? I certainly have a few…_

She— she has ideas. Narcissa has ideas. She’s imagined—

Okay. Okay, Hermione. Gryffindor.

She reluctantly pulls back, Narcissa falling forwards in surprise before her eyes snap open, unsure.

And Hermione leans down lower to press her mouth to Narcissa’s neck. Feels a fast pulse beneath her lips and sucks. _Let’s give them something to talk about. Evidence that I’ve had my mouth on you all night_

Hermione feels a hand tangle in her hair, pulling her close. _Yes, oh yes, that’s a good idea_

Hermione sucks harder, nips at her, before soothing the skin with her tongue. She can’t help but enjoy the idea of everyone knowing about this. That she’s had her mouth on the witch’s neck. And the little gasps coming from Narcissa sound unbelievably good.

_Hermione. Hermione you— you need to go. You’ll be late for—_

For her damned meeting. She knows.

Yet again, she reluctantly pulls back. Admires her handiwork. And the flush to Narcissa’s cheeks.

And Narcissa casts a glamour charm over her neck.

“Wha— what are you—”

Narcissa casts another spell, this time to fix Hermione’s hair, and then her own too. “This is a secret liaison. I would not be so sloppy as to leave the house completely debauched, or to let you do so either. The charms, however, will not last all day. The evidence will ‘accidentally’ reappear in a few hours time. Now,”

She moves out of the floo. Clears her throat, “Goodbye, Hermione. Have a lovely day, and I will see you at lunch.”

Oh. Of course. But…

Hermione smiles cheekily. She can’t resist. Acts before the thought fully registers and tugs Narcissa back towards her by the collar of her robes. Kisses her. Fast but hot and deep. Pushes her away again.

Narcissa stares at her, pupils wide and open-mouthed. Amazing.

Hermione shrugs casually. “I never had the chance to kiss you myself. I needed the practice before our fourth date.” She grabs some floo powder. “Have a lovely day too, darling. Ministry of Magic Atrium!”

And watches through green fire as Narcissa remains frozen. Now who’s the seducer.


	10. Chapter 10

Hermione gets some odd stares in her meeting. And as she walks to the department office. And inside the office.

Okay, so people are staring at her all the time. No one has actually _said_ anything yet. So that’s a plus.

Or a minus. She’s not sure yet if she wants her relationship getting out or not. Fake relationship. Well. Not so fake anymore.

Because at this point, she does kind of have a...not purely platonic relationship with Narcissa. She tries not to bite her lip just thinking about…

Too late. Now she’s distracted again. She stretches in her chair, back aching. She’s been writing out an agreement for two hours straight. Her hand is starting to cramp up around the quill. She would just use a pen, but magical document, magical ink. No biro today.

“— I mean it’s ridiculous! Where does she even come up with—” Padma abruptly stops talking to…the newest intern. Damn, what was his name? Jack? John? Something with J… Padma hired him, she can’t quite remember…

Whoever he is, he’s frozen too as the two of them stop in the doorway. It’s an open-plan office. Hermione refuses to shut herself away in her own room. What’s the point? Tradition? How is she supposed to communicate properly, efficiently, and transparently with her colleagues if she can’t even see them? And besides. She may be the Department Head, but she hasn’t worked here the longest. Isn’t the oldest. Padma Patil works beneath her, but why does hierarchy matter? She has brilliant ideas.

Even if right now she appears to be gossiping…with a copy of the Prophet.

Oh.

Gossiping about Hermione? Interesting.

Hermione smiles brightly at them, brushing some hair out of her face and checking her watch. “Morning! Or…gosh, afternoon already. I must have missed you earlier, I had a meeting. How has your week been? I’ve been so busy lately I haven’t had a chance to talk with you.”

Padma walks over, rolling her eyes, the intern following after her a lot more cautiously. “You’re always busy, Hermione. You work too hard. You barely have a moment to yourself as it is, and with the AGM? I don’t know how you manage it all. I was just telling Jonathon actually, about your work. He’s a big fan.”

Jonathon! That’s it!

She directs her attention at the intern, who adjusts his robes awkwardly. They look a bit too big for him. An older sibling’s, maybe? “Not— not one of those crazy fans. I just admire your work. What you’ve done for magical beings’ rights. And— and the war, of course. Not that— oh sorry, I shouldn’t have— Dad told me not to mention it unless—”

She holds up a hand to stop his stuttering. He lets out a relieved breath. Wow. She forgets it’s been eight years since the war now. How old is he, eighteen? The war was over before he got his Hogwarts letter!

She smiles at him. “Talking about the war is fine, don’t worry. Maybe I won’t always be up for a long story, or answering lots of questions, but mentioning it is fine. And it’s nice to know you admire what we’re working towards in this department. Peace and justice for all. Fairness and freedom. That’s what we learnt from the war. Well it’s what I learnt anyway, don’t know about you, Padma.”

Padma shrugs. “I mostly learnt to always have a nonverbal shielding charm at the ready, but I see what you’re saying. Anyway, I thought I’d mention, if you haven’t seen the Prophet yet, you’re Skeeter’s latest unlucky victim. Sorry. I don’t think anyone will believe her though, if it’s any consolation. It’s ridiculous.”

Hermione fights a smile. It is ridiculous, but that doesn’t make it strictly untrue. “I’ve seen it. It’s fine. Slightly frustrating that it appeared on the morning of a meeting, but—”

An owl swoops in through the window. An owl she recognises. That brought her a book a few days ago, far too early in the morning.

So. Time for fake subtlety. How…

Jonathon walks over to the bird, obviously glad to have something to do, uncomfortable with discussing his boss’ newspaper sex scandal. Unfortunately, the owl just hoots at him and hops out of his reach, flapping over to Hermione, who grabs its leg firmly, untying the letter. The scroll.

“Sorry, Padma. I’m not sure…”

> _Hello Darling,_
> 
> _I hope your meeting went well, and that I did not delay you for too long this morning. Although you certainly gave as good as you got; my lips are still tingling at the memory._
> 
> _Must we wait until this evening to see one another again? I know the hounds (or rather beetles and tigers) are onto us, but I miss you already. Lunch? Half past one? There is a little place not far from me. A hole in the wall, tucked away by the river._
> 
> _(I know you are intelligent enough to decipher that pitiful code. Don’t judge me too harshly. My head is filled with other, far more interesting ideas)_
> 
> _Please come. I’ll be waiting._
> 
> _N_

Hermione finishes reading, and finds that she’s biting her lip again, a smile on her face. Gosh. Narcissa certainly has a way with words. And…she’s somehow flattered?

She’s been seduced, damn it.

She looks back up at Padma and Jonathon. Deliberately flicks her eyes to the newspaper still in the witch’s hands. And leaves the note enticingly on her desk. Subtle.

And clears her throat. “Sorry. Unimportant. What were we talking about?”

Yep. Padma is eyeing the letter suspiciously. “We were talking about the article in the Prophet. About you. It…doesn’t bother you?”

Hermione shrugs. Reaches into a drawer and takes out some random files, placing them on top of Narcissa’s note with a thud. “No, of course it doesn’t. Skeeter’s been writing about me for years, you know that. What’s one more story?”

Padma raises her eyebrows. “And the person she’s…paired you with, isn’t…” she drifts off. Here comes the tricky part.

Hermione scoffs loudly. “No! Narcissa Black?”

More than a few heads turn in her direction. Perfect.

“I mean, that’s quite the compliment, if anything. Better than when she said I was dating Harry. At least I’m actually attrac— I— I mean, have you heard of the work she’s done at St Mungo’s? She’s a— a brilliant witch. And generous. The amount of funds she has raised and donated from her own pocket to give back after the war is astonishing.”

It’s true. Even when you take into account Narcissa’s net worth, percentage wise? Other than the upkeep of the Manor, and what she has presumably left to Draco, the witch has given everything to charity. Towards Hogwarts, orphanages, housing, muggle relations, Azkaban. You name it, she’s given towards it. Even to Hermione’s own department. Narcissa probably paid for the files currently sat on top of her love letter.

Love letter with a secret message. Now what did Narcissa mean? A little place…a hole in the wall…by the river…tucked away…

“…mione?”

Hmm? Oh. Oh she completely forgot about Padma, lost in thought. “Pardon?”

Padma leans in to whisper to her. “I said, you might want to stop by the bathroom, because you have lipstick on your neck.”

Lipstick?! How is that possible? Narcissa was nowhere near her neck, and—

Padma gasps, eyes wide as Hermione’s hand flies to her neck. “It’s true?! I thought Skeeter made it up!” she shouts.

Okay, a lot of people are looking. And poor Jonathon looks like he wants to be anywhere else right now. Hermione definitely empathises. Wishes she had her own office so—

She stands up, whispering to Padma frantically and rubbing at her neck. “Sshh. It’s— it’s not— do I really have—?”

“No, there’s no lipstick. I can’t believe you fell for that. And I can’t believe you actually—”

What?! “Okay, you’re not secretly Parvati, are you? Because I didn’t know you were such a gossip! And so loud! Everyone is _listening_ ,” she hisses.

Padma rolls her eyes. “My sister doesn’t _own_ gossiping. And I was just shocked. It’s— look, I’m sorry. I’ll keep it quiet if you want. I don’t think anyone here will…”

Padma drifts off again. Shakes her head. “I still can’t believe it. Wow. Granger the gold digger.”

Hermione lets out a sound of outrage. “I’m not doing it for her money! How could you think that?! She’s not just— I told you. She’s a brilliant witch. Intelligent. Beautiful, of course. And she can be so thoughtful, and funny. Some of the things she says are hilarious— and sometimes she is just so frustrating that she drives me crazy, either reading my mind, or misinterpreting something, but we always figure it out and— what?”

Padma is looking at her strangely. Smiling oddly.

Padma beckons Jonathon over to them. “Hermione, I thought this was just a fling but…are you in love with her? Do we need to really do some damage control on this secret? Because if I’ve done anything to jeopardise your relationship, I’m so sorry. I should have known. You’re always serious about your relationships and— look. Jonathon and I can deny everything, if you want? Say it was a joke?”

Oh.

What?

But she hadn’t even pretended to be in love with Narcissa. She just told the truth.

Does she want damage control? What would she actually have done if this situation was real? Wait.

But there aren’t any damages. Why would it—

Hermione shakes her head with a smile. “You don’t need to hide anything. The press getting involved isn’t ideal, but I’m not ashamed of our relationship. It’s just quite new and— no. You can say what you want. Well…the truth would be better.”

Oh!

She grins at them. Wags her finger. “In fact, if people do start talking about this, can you _please_ stop this nonsense about me seducing her. It’s not about the money. And she isn’t pathetic, or desperate, or whatever Skeeter was getting at. And definitely not cold. You should have seen how angry she was with the Prophet this morning. All of the curses that came out of her mouth about hexing Rita Skeeter—” Hermione breaks off to laugh at the memory. Ice Queen. Yeah right.

Jonathon clears his throat. “Not actual curses though, right? She didn’t— you know—”

And Hermione’s laughter sharply cuts off as she turns on him. What. What the fuck does that mean? Does he think she’s a Death Eater? Is this what the next generation— did he not listen to _anything_ she said about peace and—

And Padma is stood in front of her, hands raised. “Whoa, whoa, Hermione. Calm down. He didn’t mean anything by it. It was a joke. These kids aren’t used to the war. They missed it.”

Oh. Oh no, she’s drawn her wand. When did—

She slips it back into her sleeve, a hand coming over her mouth in horror. “Oh I’m so—. Oh I don’t know where that came from it— Jonathon, I’m so sorry, you just struck a bit of a nerve and—”

Jonathon has backed away, but cautiously takes a step closer. “I really didn’t mean anything bad, Ms Granger, I’m sorry. I just meant she was intimidating. Scary in like a…you know, no-nonsense way. Always seems to stare into your soul. Not umm, bad curses. Just— like when a Professor glares at you for talking in class. Like that. I wouldn’t want her angry at me, is all I’m saying.”

She runs a hand over her hair with a groan. Right. That kind of scary. Not war criminal scary. And Narcissa does stare into people’s souls, or at least their minds. She’s definitely intimidating. Even _Ginny_ said—

She looks at her watch. Crap. It’s past one o’ clock, and she still hasn’t figured out where she’s meeting Narcissa. It must be near St Mungo’s, so…

Jonathon still looks uncomfortable. She smiles at him, hopefully reassuringly. “Not your fault. I should be the one apologising, really. There’s no excuse for…” she sighs, clearing the magical agreement, ink and quill from her desk and shrugging on her cloak.

And walks over to him. “She is scary, you’re right,” she whispers. “And I need to get going. She’s invited me to lunch, and she might hex me if I leave her waiting.”

He lets out a relieved laugh. Thank goodness. So young. She resists the urge to straighten his robes. Or at least magically adjust them.

Come on, Hermione. Get going. Or you really will get a glare or an angry voice in your head from— oh!

Oh of course!

That’s the clue. Near me. It doesn’t have anything to do with— Narcissa can just tell her!

She shouts a goodbye to the office in general and hurries out to the lifts. Time for her date.

* * *

She doesn’t apparate to St Mungo’s, that would be unsubtle even for her, but she does apparate into a dead end a few streets away. And prays she got the message right. _Narcissa?_

 _Oh good, so you received my owl. An owl which is yet to return. Would accepting my invitation have been overly polite? Forced?_ Narcissa snaps.

Shit. She’d completely forgotten about—

_Oh. Padma Patil? That could work in our favour. If her chatterbox of a sister finds out, then—_

Narcissa cuts off. Did she walk out of range?

Hermione walks further down the street, closer to St Mungo’s. _Narcissa? Can you still hear me?_

_…You drew your wand on that poor boy? What were you thinking?! What is the matter with you?! Do you think I am in need of—_

Hermione marches further towards the hospital. If Narcissa is going to shout at her, she can say it to her face! She obviously saw the memory. She knows Hermione wasn’t—

 _You are going the wrong way. Turn around and take a left_ Narcissa sighs.

What? Oh. Already at the café. _So? Finished yelling at me for something I already feel bad about? Embarrassed by? A reaction to years of—_

_I know. I apologise. I have reacted the same way myself on occasion, usually when Draco is…yes, carry along. It’s the next right. I was not kidding about the hole in the wall. Look for the shimmer of the concealment spell as you round the corner_

Oh, so there was a secret message. Was she supposed to figure that out?

_You could have, but it was more for your colleagues. One of them is bound to take a look at your desk after your little display. I wouldn’t call it subtle, but it was effective. There, can you see that silver birch tree? Beside it_

Hermione crosses the street and squints at the wall. Hole in the wall…

She taps her wand to a slight dent. Nothing happens.

Narcissa laughs. _Apologies. Couldn’t resist. Turn around_

What?

Oh for— A café. Called Den on the Avon. A hole in the wall. Avon is the Celtic word for river.

Did she have to make her look like such an idiot?! _Narcissa!_

_Yes, darling?_

Argh. She stomps across the street. And smiles despite herself. Guess she can’t make fun of Harry for being unobservant now.

Hang on.

The café doesn’t have a door. Is she just being unobservant again? No. That’s ridiculous. She’s not _that_ bad.

_Tap your wand to the image of the fox, next to the window_

Hermione scoffs to herself. Yeah right. She’s not falling for that again.

_Do you not trust me, Miss Granger?_

Fine. But if this is another joke, then—

_Then you will still smile as you greet me, because there is someone observing. Hurry, he is approaching my table_

Hermione looks around. Definitely no door.

She taps the fox self-consciously. It…runs across the glass. Oh. Oh she can see inside now. How had she not realised before that— and a glass door. She pushes it open—

And spots Narcissa sat at the back of the café in a corner, smiling tensely as a wizard bends over her. Leans over her. What is he—

_He is convincing me to invest in a business venture. Invisible hats. How asinine. At least you cannot see quite how preposterous this hat is. It certainly feels it_

Hermione hides a laugh as she walks over. Taps the wizard on the shoulder. “I’m sorry to interrupt what appears to be an…interesting discussion, but you’ve stolen my date. This isn’t a business lunch. So, if you don’t mind?”

She raises an eyebrow at him. Gestures him out of the way. His eyes dart between them and then widen. “Oh! Oh, sorry, ladies. Don’t mind me, carry on. And Ms Black, that one is on the house. Free of charge. Let me know what you—”

Narcissa gives him a strained nod. “That’s very kind of you. Goodbye, Mr Sidgleton.”

Narcissa stares at him until he backs away, and Hermione slowly sits down.

And squints at Narcissa’s head. She’s staying very still. How…

The bell chimes as the wizard leaves the café. Hermione cautiously reaches up to—

_Don’t_

_But—_

_It is heavy. I cannot even fathom what— fine. Fine, help me_

Narcissa tentatively reaches up over her head, and Hermione stands up. Bends closer to look. Nothing visible…

She reaches out her fingers. Oh. What the…

_What is it made of?!_

_I have no idea, and I do not wish to know. But people are beginning to wonder why your chest is in my eye line, so I suggest we hurry_

Oh. Oh no! Oh this must look so strange and—

She lifts it free with a grunt. It _is_ heavy. And…moist? Ugh! How disgusting!

_I agree, but perhaps conceal your expression. We have deliberately invited people to spy on us. I do not feel this is the impression we were going for_

Why? Why is everything always so difficult?!

She manages to put the hat on the floor, and straightens to sit down opposite Narcissa again. So much for seamless romance. Well, there’s only one way to save this.

Hermione just laughs. This is so ridiculous. Her hands are wet from an invisible hat. How is—

She wipes her hands on a napkin and smiles widely at Narcissa. “Do you want to start over? Because I’m not sure where to go from here. Does this always happen to you? Just…odd things? All the time?”

Narcissa raises an eyebrow. “Oh, you think that this was my fault? I believe you are the one that attracts…strange misadventures. My life was decidedly ordinary before you came along. I certainly was not…beset upon by tigers, and cats, and hats.”

Hermione laughs again. And can’t seem to stop. Beset upon by a hat.

Narcissa tuts at her, but does smile. Casts a drying spell at her head. Oh gods, did her head get wet? Could she feel it? Why didn’t she stop him?

_I was preoccupied with speaking to you. I did not spot him until— and I had no idea what he was imagining. That is not a hat. It is a monstrosity_

Oh dear Merlin, Hermione can’t breathe. And all this laughter is making her so hot.

She struggles out of her cloak. “Can— can I get you a drink or— or something to eat— sorry. Don’t know what’s wrong with me,” she gasps as her laughter dies off. Clears her throat. “Shall I get you the usual?”

Narcissa smiles at her. _Good. Your brain is still functioning_ “Yes, darling. You know what I like. I believe you order over there, by the door.”

Okay, good. Back on track with the fake dating. Although she can’t quite see if anyone is watching…

Hermione gets to her feet. Hesitates. And then leans down to whisper in Narcissa’s ear. “What would you actually like?”

Hermione shivers as cold fingers stroke across the back of her neck, and Narcissa murmurs back. “Just the soup of the day would be lovely, thank you.”

Soup? That’s it? Okay. Not the fanciest meal.

Wait. Cold fingers.

She pulls back. Searches Narcissa’s face in concern. She _is_ looking a bit pale. She holds the back of her hand to Narcissa’s forehead. “You’re cold? The hat didn’t make you sick, did it?”

Narcissa gives her a bemused look. “Of course not. I’m fine. I often run cold. You’re probably just hot from your walk and…attack of mirth. Go. Or shall I order for you?”

Hermione quickly backs off towards the counter. “Don’t even think about it, Narcissa. It’s on me, remember? For ripping your dress.”

Oh. Oh she said that a bit too loudly. She didn’t mean— that sounded like—

_Like you ripped off my dress. Well. That’s one way to advertise our relationship. People are certainly listening now_

Hermione sighs to herself. Turns to read the menu board. Vegetable soup. Why not?

How is soup going to go wrong?


	11. Chapter 11

Hermione lets her head clear a bit as she waits to order. Fresh start. This is supposed to be a romantic date. Proof that their relationship is more than just a fling. That she isn’t…using Narcissa for her money? Is that what Skeeter said?

So a love story. How do you act out a love story? She has to pretend she’s falling in love with Narcissa…so…

So look at her.

She glances across to the back of the café. Narcissa is watching her. Oh.

Oh well that ruins— _I wanted to look at you without you knowing_ Hermione sighs. _Can you just…look away or something?_

Narcissa doesn’t look away. In fact, she turns to face her more directly and rests her head in her hand. _No. I am supposed to be falling in love with you also. Let me look at you_

Hermione feels her face heat up, and she looks away. Narcissa is so intense, it…

She swears she can feel her gaze. How is that possible?

She finds herself at the front of the queue, and quickly orders.

And spots some pepper imp sweets for sale at the till. Hmm. She buys those too. The waitress will bring over the soup when it’s ready, so they have a few minutes.

_Sweets? I know you are young, Miss Granger, but—_

Hermione walks back to their table, shaking her head. And offers the sweets to Narcissa. _Go on. You can’t be the Ice Queen if you’re breathing fire_

Narcissa glares at the sweets. _I am not going to make a spectacle of myself just to—_

 _Smile, darling. People are watching_ Hermione reminds her. And it’s true. The café is quite crowded now. They’ve attracted the attention they wanted.

Narcissa smiles softly, and reaches out with the tips of her fingers to take the bag of sweets. Looks inside. _I have never tried these before_

Hermione’s mouth falls open. “Never?! Not even when you went to Hogsmeade with your friends?”

Narcissa looks up. “I did not have friends. I had acquaintances, allies, admirers, and…sisters. I did not wish to make a spectacle of myself then either. I ate sensible sweets that did not…cause adverse reactions.”

Oh.

Hermione reaches over and takes one of the sweets from the bag. “You don’t have to. But we can do it together, if you want?”

Narcissa searches her face. And sighs. Takes out a pepper imp and raises it to her lips. “Am I supposed to bite, or…suck? Hard…or soft?”

Hermione swallows, eyes falling to Narcissa’s neck. The love bite is visible. The glamour charm must have…

Her mind whirls. Flashes of teeth and lips and— it was only a few hours ago that—

Okay, she must have said that on purpose! She meets Narcissa’s eyes.

Narcissa raises an eyebrow. A challenge. Her lip quirks up at the corner.

Fine. Fine then— Hermione leans closer. “It will be hot on your tongue. You need to control the heat, can you do that? It’s about timing. Feel for the spark, and let your mouth fall open. Just let it happen. I find that an ‘o’ shape works best. But feel free to experiment,” she murmurs lowly. Trains her eyes on Narcissa’s lips.

And looks up. Meets eyes that are definitely not icy. A face that is no longer pale.

Narcissa reaches out with her right hand, rests it on Hermione’s shoulder. Rubs her thumb across Hermione’s collarbone.

And pushes her backwards. Hermione lets herself move back in her seat. Watches, transfixed, as Narcissa pushes the sweet between her own lips.

How was that the hottest thing she’s ever seen? She definitely does not need her own sweet to warm up. She can feel her cheeks radiating—

Narcissa draws in a breath through her nose, and closes her eyes, shivering. Fuck. Fuck, okay, she lost the challenge. Narcissa is definitely winning at whatever is—

And Narcissa’s eyes snap open. She runs her tongue quickly over her teeth, makes an almost ‘o’ shape with her mouth, but wider, relaxed but…her tongue is cupped. And then Narcissa gasps, and fire floods out of her mouth. Hermione feels the heat on her face and leans back further. Whoa.

Narcissa jerks, probably at the kickback from the flames. Grips the edge of the table, white knuckled. Fuck. Fuck, how is this so hot, it—

Everything has gone silent around them. All eyes on their table.

And the fire subsides. Narcissa lets out a shaky breath. Relaxes in her seat. Then blows some remaining steam out of her mouth like smoke from a cigarette.

Silence.

Well. That…

_Fuck, Narcissa. That was your first time?_

She made that look easy. And…sexy? Who makes pepper imps sexy?!

Narcissa shifts in her seat and clears her throat, eyes coming back into focus. Looks around the café. Everyone hurriedly averts their gaze, background chatter building once more. “Well. I am certainly no longer cold. If it was your intention to warm me up, then you have succeeded. And here comes our soup.”

Hmm? Oh.

An apparently awestruck young waitress places their soup and bread down in front of them. Squeaks out an ‘enjoy’ and backs away. Hermione can’t blame her.

Narcissa moves her chair in closer. _Smile, darling. You are looking at me as if I am about to eat you. You are not supposed to be scared of me_

Scared? Hermione isn’t sure _what_ to think of Narcissa now. It’s like accidentally inviting a dragon to tea. She still hasn’t quite recovered…

“So how was your meeting? Did you convince them?” Narcissa asks calmly, buttering some bread.

Oh. Hermione smiles at her and then begins eating. “I think I had most of them persuaded. It’s hard to tell because— Thibault Fognes, do you know him? I can never quite read what he’s thinking.”

Narcissa scoffs. “That’s because he never has a thought in his head other than his beloved hounds and what he’ll be eating for dinner. No, I doubt he listened to a word you said, and he’ll side with the majority without so much as a passing thought.”

Really?! He’d seemed so serious. Stern.

Narcissa considers this. “No. Merely his eyebrows. He’s managed to go far with those eyebrows.”

Hermione snorts into her soup. “Like Dumbledore and his twinkly eyes. Adds to the mysterious all-knowing look.”

Narcissa jolts her head up. “Yes! Precisely! Some of what he said was pure nonsense. Do you know how frustrating it was to watch him twinkle knowingly at people? He had no idea what they were hiding, but as soon as he hinted at knowing, they’d immediately begin thinking about their secrets, and he’d look right into their heads and see it! I had to bite my tongue on more than one occasion, persuade whoever it was from his sight before they—”

Narcissa stops. Looks around the café as she realises quite how loudly she’d been talking. No noticeably angry looks that Hermione can see, but Narcissa might have heard a stray thought.

They both drift into silence as they eat their soup. Probably best not to talk about Dumbledore. He’s quite the controversial figure these days. Don’t want to rub people the wrong way. Especially Narcissa…

Hermione reaches over and takes Narcissa’s hand. “And how was work today at Mungo’s? Any patients, or just research?”

Narcissa smiles at her gratefully. She can’t quite tell if it’s genuine. All this acting is confusing.

_I am thankful for the change of topic, yes, but I have fabricated the smile somewhat. I’m afraid free expressions do not come easily to me in public_

Oh. Fake. Of course.

She feels her own smile fall. She can’t help it. A heavy feeling settles in her stomach and she swallows a mouthful of soup overly harshly. It pricks at her throat.

It’s…hard. Just— having all her thoughts out there for Narcissa to hear… but not being able to hear back. She has no idea what Narcissa is really thinking. What’s real and what’s not. She’s good at…

Narcissa has so many layers of acting. It’s not even acting! It’s—

Like the politeness. Etiquette. That’s acting. Smiling when she’s uncomfortable. The perfect hostess. It seems like pure instinct for the witch. Even if she hated someone, she’d still be polite to their face. Maybe a snide comment or two, but—

And she doesn’t blame Narcissa for it. Of course not. She doesn’t have to change herself or— or do anything for Hermione. Her thoughts are private. It’s fine that— she just wishes she wouldn’t fake her emotions towards Hermione. That’s all.

She finishes her soup. Lays her spoon down and…

Narcissa is frowning at her. Well. That’s expected. Hears everything.

And then the frown disappears. Eyes widen, and in a blink Narcissa’s face loses all expression.

Narcissa puts down her spoon. Stands up. Holds out her hand to Hermione.

Okay? Are they leaving?

She takes Narcissa’s hand and gets to her feet. Lets go, so she can put her cloak on.

Once she’s ready, Narcissa takes her hand again. Holding hands. They walk out of the café holding hands.

Narcissa doesn’t say anything. Not even in her head. Just continues walking in silence. There’s no expression on her face now either. They carry on down the street.

Is she upset? Because of what Hermione was thinking?

But if she was upset, she’d shout, wouldn’t she? A hiss in her head? And she probably wouldn’t be holding her hand so gently.

Soon they reach a river. Narcissa looks away, somewhat jerkily. Oh. Water.

“Narcissa, what is—”

Narcissa turns her back to the river. Clears her throat. Smiles tightly. “My apologies, Miss Granger. It appears our plan was not quite the success we envisioned. I am thankful for your help, but I have encumbered you with my presence for long enough. I relieve you of any obligations. I shall be fine.”

…What?

What the—

“What did…where did this— what do you mean—? Narcissa—”

Narcissa pulls her hand away. Backs away a few paces. Face blank. “It is for the best. Our…association was damaging your reputation. I’ll leave you be. Goodbye, Miss Granger.”

Hermione takes a step towards her. Reaches out to—

And Narcissa disapparates away.

Oh.

Hermione stares in disbelief at the empty spot where she’d been stood. A cold wind whistles past her, whipping up a flurry of leaves.

And silence falls. An emptiness settles.

Oh.

* * *

Hermione rolls sideways as a green light fills the living room. The floo. Is it—?

No. Ginny.

“Okay, Hermione Granger, why have I not heard a _peep_ about your steamy affair with Narcissa when even Rita Skeeter somehow knows about it— which sucks, by the way, unlucky. So? Tell me everything! Is—”

Hermione has rolled back to look at the ceiling, hugging a pillow to her chest. She’s been lying here for a while. She should probably move. Make dinner.

She feels Ginny lift her legs up and sit under them. Pull her shoes off. Oh. She forgot about that.

Ginny sighs. “What happened? Is this because of Skeeter? Because it’s not that bad. Honestly. No one will believe her. It’s just gossip. It will blow over and…oh. Wait. Did Narcissa react badly to this? What did she— tell me what she did because—”

Hermione sits up with a sigh. Crosses her legs. She should probably explain. “It wasn’t because of Skeeter. I don’t really know why, but…Narcissa just…broke things off. It’s fine. It was nothing. Just a— a thing that happened and is apparently…over.”

She tries to smile casually. It doesn’t really work. There’s a lump in her throat that just won’t—

Ginny pulls her into a hug, and Hermione lets out a grateful breath. And maybe a few tears slip from her eyes. It’s so stupid. It was a fake relationship! Why is she upset?

“I’m gonna kill her,” Ginny growls. “I know where she lives. I can— well, there are wards but— or tell on her. Yep. I’m telling Andy. Or Draco. They can go yell at her for—”

Hermione pulls away with a laugh. “No! No, don’t! Ginny! Oh, she’d kill me if Draco—”

“She won’t be able to. She’ll already be dead. Shagging you and then running off just because Rita Skeeter—”

Oh. Oh wait.

Hermione brushes some hair out of her face and waves her wand to set the kettle boiling in the kitchen. “Ginny, if I tell you something, can you keep it a secret? Like completely confidential. Not even…well I guess Harry should…You know what? I’m going to tell both of you. Let’s get Harry over here too. If she can’t even explain herself, then I am not keeping her embarrassing secret like—”

Ginny wiggles her eyebrows at her. “Embarrassing secret? Oh I’m in. Tell me. I like this Hermione, getting revenge. Maybe Her Slytherinness rubbed off on you.”

Hermione snorts and heads toward the kitchen. “You just call Harry, I’ll make some tea.”

“Tea?” Ginny shouts. “Got any Ogden’s? Or even a butterbeer would do, come on!”

Hmm. Hermione reaches around in the back of the larder. Well. There is wine…

* * *

Harry frowns at her across the kitchen table in complete confusion. “So…you didn’t sleep with each other? Or you did. But you just slept. Because she can’t sleep without you or…someone…nearby.”

Hermione nods.

Ginny squints at her over her glass of wine. “Let me get this straight. She told you to get into bed with her, convinced you into a fake relationship for me and Harry, then said you should go one step further and fake it for the whole world. _Kissed you._ And then…completely froze you out for no reason?”

Umm…yes. She nods again.

Ginny slumps to rest her head in her hand and frowns at Harry. “I don’t get it. Do you get it?”

Harry is still just as confused. “But I saw you together. That was fake? It seemed so…real.”

Hermione sighs. “I know. It got…blurred. I mean, she definitely flirted with me. A lot! When no one else was— she flirted in my head! I can’t have imagined that. And who _bites_ someone in a first kiss. Or…but she’s so good at acting. Look! Look at the fake note she sent to my office today.”

She accios the note over from her cloak pocket. Because yes. She brought it home with her.

Only so that it doesn’t end up in tomorrow’s newspaper. That’s the reason.

Ginny snatches the note from mid-air and flattens it onto the table between her and Harry.

Harry’s eyebrows slowly rise up his forehead, and Ginny lets out a low whistle. “Okay. I see what you mean. Fake, but fucking flirty.”

Harry shakes his head. “Tell us again what happened right before she…you know. Left. She fake smiled at you…”

Hermione sighs. “Which shouldn’t have been a big deal. I’m an idiot. It’s a fake relationship. But yes, she fake smiled at me, and then…I was just thinking about how I wished she wouldn’t be fake with me. About how I hate that because she’s so polite, she might just put up with things and not tell me. What if she didn’t want to be anywhere near me? And— and then she left. Well. She held my hand first. Walked us out of sight. Probably so the papers wouldn’t…what?”

Ginny smacks herself in the forehead. “Oh this is so obvious. Oh I can’t believe— oh now I’m really going to kill her.”

What? Hermione frowns. “I don’t get it. What did I say?”

Ginny looks at Harry, who nods in agreement. “Hermione. In the middle of this whole fake _thing_ …you were thinking about how you didn’t want it to be fake. Which means you actually wanted to be on a date with Narcissa. A _real_ relationship. She freaked out! She talks a big game, she’s flirty, but a relationship? Someone caring about her? When has she ever had someone care about her that wasn’t family? And even then…she told you! She’s never had friends. Never opened herself up to— you worried about her. She doesn’t like people worrying about her. She realised how close you two were getting, and apparated for the hills! Classic commitment issues.”

Hermione’s mouth drops open. That’s her problem? Commitment issues?! What the— so she just ran away because—

She jolts to her feet. “That’s so presumptive! Oh, so just because I don’t want her to fake smile at me, I’m going to— to force myself on her? And— and…”

And she kind of had. Narcissa had commented on that too. Four dates in a week. And she can’t even escape her thoughts…

Hmm. Maybe that hasty escape had been brewing for a while.

So…

Hermione sits back down. “It makes sense. She was scared. Felt trapped. She can’t get away from my thoughts and— and some of my thoughts have been quite…inappropriate.” She quickly looks up at them.

“I can’t help it! The thoughts just— and it makes it worse when I know she’s listening. Anyway. Even without…think how trapped she was for the whole war. I don’t want her to feel like that again. How can…I want to show her that I’m still here…but not trap her, you know?”

Harry smiles at her. “I know exactly what you mean. I’m kind of…” he breaks off with a self-deprecating laugh. “I’m having the same problem with Draco. Like mother like son.”

Oh. Oh! She laughs. “Oh gods, really? Oh Harry, oh that’s why— he hasn’t run halfway across the world because of you, has he?”

Harry shakes his head. “No. No, just a coincidence. But I was hoping he might realise— that’s why I’ve been denying it. Keeping it casual. I didn’t want to pressure him or…well. Didn’t really work, did it? Guess I can’t give you any advice. Sorry. We can just commiserate together about…umm…Hermione? You do realise that you like her, right?”

Hermione takes a sip of wine. “Yes. It’s kind of…well there’s no denying it, is there? She broke off our ‘friendship’ and I’m sat here drowning in wine and self-pity. Not sure when it happened but…”

So embarrassing. Feelings for Narcissa. After only a week of…she thuds her head down on the table. “Merlin, I’m pathetic. Don’t look at me. One kiss and I’m…”

Someone pats her shoulder. Ginny probably. “Sounds like she might be a lost cause. Throw that flirty fish back in. She’s all bark and no bite.”

Hermione laughs against the table. “Gin, I don’t know where to begin on— I think you mixed your metaphors and— and she did bite. That’s the point.”

Harry laughs too. “I still can’t believe that. All the flirting. It’s kind of blowing my mind. She’s so proper. Polite.”

Hermione rests her head in her arms and looks up at him. “Just wait for tomorrow’s paper. If anyone caught her little pepper imp performance at the café then—”

She suddenly stops. Crookshanks is miaowing. From the living room.

She sharply gets to her feet, folding her arms. _Narcissa?_

Silence.

She huffs. “Narcissa, if you’re here, you’d better get in here right now and—!”

She hears the floo sound. Unbelievable! Running away _again_?!

She shares a disbelieving look with Ginny and Harry, before they all run to the living room.

Her stuff. Clothes and toiletries that she left at Narcissa’s house just sat in a neat pile on the floor. That is just—

“Wow. Really mature,” she scoffs.

Harry folds his arms with a frown. “I take it back. Not polite. Just a cowardly— Hermione, what are you—”

Hermione ignores him. Steps into the floo. She’s not letting Narcissa get away with this. “Malfoy Manor!”

Nothing happens.

She—

Ginny scoffs. “Right. Of course. Blocked you out of her floo network too. Now that’s cold. The Ice Queen is back. Run off and hide in your fortress, Ms Black.”

Hermione kicks the back of the floo in frustration. Shouts some choice curses.

“Well she can’t avoid me forever. This is ridiculous! It’s not like I proposed to her or something! All this because I…caught feelings for her? Well good luck sleeping, Narcissa!” she yells up the chimney.

She steps back into the living room with a huff. Gets some soot on the carpet. Doesn’t care.

And then spots a copy of the Prophet on the coffee table and lets out a groan. “Oh no. Oh now— I’m still in a fake relationship with her. People saw us today. I told Padma…and she’ll tell Parvati…what did we do?! No one will believe us if we deny it now!”

Ginny barks out a laugh, and then slams a hand over her mouth. “Sorry. Sorry it’s just— I don’t know, karma or something? Or just ironic. I don’t think you deserve this, it’s just…Hermione, what are you gonna do? You can’t even be angry with her in public. It would just feed the whole gossip thing. Bad blood and all that.”

Hermione thumps down on the sofa. Stares at her belongings on the—

There’s a note.

She kneels down on the floor and picks it up. And then freezes. What will it say?

“Hermione? Oh.” Harry crouches down next to her. “Go on. It will drive you crazy if you don’t look.”

It’s true. She really wants to know…

She unravels the scroll.

> _I understand if you wish to reveal my secret. Please don’t. It is of utmost importance._
> 
> _As for the rest…_

That’s it?

She doesn’t even bother finishing her sentence? Nothing to say? Not even an apology?

Hermione runs a hand over her face and shoves the note at Harry. “I think the mother is worse than the son.”

He lets out a hummed sigh.

And then pulls her to her feet. “Right. I’m making us dinner. Both of you come to mine. Let’s just leave all…this. Come on.”

She smiles at him. That does sound good. She’s drank too much wine and…

Yes. Dinner at Harry’s sounds really nice right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn it, Narcissa!
> 
> But also, did I just give Narcissa a scene reminiscent of the Meg Ryan diner scene in 'When Harry Met Sally'?
> 
> Yes. Yes I did.
> 
> (If you don't get the reference...ummm...look it up...and listen with headphones unless you want to attract strange looks)


	12. Chapter 12

Hermione wakes up to Crookshanks—

Oh. Not Crookshanks on her face. A newspaper. And Ginny grimacing down at her as Hermione bats it out of the way.

“You’re frontpage news again. Sorry.”

Hermione struggles to sit up in…Harry’s bed? What? When did she—

“You fell asleep on the sofa,” Harry says from the doorway, cleaning his teeth. “We hovered you in last night. Figured you deserved some sleep before…” He gestures at the Prophet.

Hermione readies herself, and looks down at the front— oh no.

Yep. Skeeter is at it again. There’s Hermione, pushing her chest into Narcissa’s face and…grimacing. Groaning.

Stupid—

She throws the paper across the room and it slides down a wall. “There was an invisible hat! It was heavy! And wet! I wasn’t—”

Ginny and Harry are shaking with stifled laughter.

“It’s not funny!” Hermione growls at them, stumbling out of bed.

Harry makes a mad dash for the sink as toothpaste begins spewing out of his mouth, and Ginny bends over double in laughter. “Oh gods. Oh Hermione you— you have the worst luck— invisible—”

Harry appears again. Red faced. “No one will believe that! I barely believe it, and I know you’re telling the truth!” he gasps out.

And then tries to calm down as he sees her expression. “Oh I’m sorry. Sorry it’s not—” he clears his throat. “It’s not funny. You’re right. Umm. Have you decided what you’re going to tell people? Not just with this, I mean…”

Ginny flops onto her back on the bed. “Oh Merlin, when Mum sees this! I didn’t speak to her yesterday. Or Ron. Fleur! Andy! Everyone is going to—”

Hermione sits down on the bed. Curls into a ball. Oh this is a nightmare. She and Narcissa did not think this fake relationship thing through _at all_. And now—

Now her reputation will be…

Right. No. Narcissa said she was doing this for both of their reputations. She doesn’t get to just walk away and—

One mile.

She stands up. Nods to herself. “Harry, I need to borrow your cloak.”

Harry frowns at her. “My cloak? You can just floo home. You need to get dressed anyway and—”

She sighs. “No, Harry, your invisibility cloak. Please. This has gone on— I need to talk to Narcissa. Privately. There are probably reporters hanging around both of our houses now and— I’m going to go talk to her. Make her sort this out.”

Harry’s eyes widen in comprehension, and then he begins rifling through his wardrobe.

Ginny whacks her in the arm. “Yes! Make her listen. Oh please can I come too? Can I yell at her? Or just watch you yell at her? I don’t have plans today and—”

Hermione smiles at her fondly. “Sorry, Gin. I’ll be outside the Manor. Wards, remember? I won’t actually see her. We’ll use the legilimency.”

Harry lets out an ‘aha!’ and stands from where he’d been kneeling on the floor. “Here it is. I’m always burying it under— and I get why accio doesn’t work but— here. Get it back to me whenever, I won’t need it for a bit…I don’t think. Touch wood.”

He knocks on the wardrobe, and hands her the cloak. She puts it on with a grin. The memories. It smells like childhood. She can practically _feel_ Ron stepping on her toes.

Okay. She can apparate straight there. Somewhere just outside the wards.

…Maybe not near the entrance. She can be a mile away so…nearby is fine.

“Right. Wish me luck. I’m off to meet the Ice Queen.”

* * *

Just as she’d thought. Reporters hanging around the edge of the wards. And they’re not even hiding, cameras and quills at the ready. How rude!

Concentrate, Hermione. She has to…

No. No, Narcissa can read her mind. She knows exactly why she’s here. Why this is the right thing to do. Why they need to put aside petty—

The plan was to get revenge on Skeeter. And damn it, if Hermione starts a plan, she always finishes it. She won’t let...feelings…get in the way! And also— and also they’ve created a complete mess and they need to fix it! What’s she going to tell Molly at Sunday lunch? Or her colleagues? How long is this fake relationship going to last? Because she is not going to be the bitter ex or the jilted—

_Oh fuck off! You are so so so loud just— fucking, bloody— bugger off MzGrnger_

Umm…oh.

Is Narcissa…drunk?

At…seven in the morning, on a Friday?

A dragging groan in her head _. Ssshhhsh, too much. Just too loud, and much, and_ — _soften. Softly softly_

Oh dear Merlin. Okay. Okay this…

_Narcissa, can you please unblock the floo so I can come in?_

_You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Come in and…just come in and hear eeeverything. Fill up— fill up all the rooms and the space and the— you want me to let you in. That’s what— what you’re thinking. Because I can see it. I see aalll of it. Because you’re so loud. And pushy. All of your thoughts: push push push into my head_

Hermione doesn’t— she isn’t quite sure…umm…

What should she do?

_Oh just come in, Hermione. You always do. Just come in. Come and find me. Floo into my horrible hallway. I hate that hallway. I’m going to— maybe I’ll get rid of it. Or vanish it. Turn it invisible like— like a hat! Do you think Mr Sidjdhleton can do hallways as well as hats?_

Floo. Right. Just—

_I’ll be right there, Narcissa_

She apparates back to Harry’s. Because his floo might still be linked up and— Just— just because— because bloody hell!

Harry and Ginny are sat eating breakfast. She pulls off the cloak. They jump.

“That was fucking quick,” Ginny frowns, waving her spoon. “What did—”

Hermione interrupts her. “She’s drunk! Absolutely wasted! I’m going to need some help. She says she’s opened the floo but— maybe you should come with me under the cloak. She probably won’t want you there. I’m not sure— oh it’s horrific. Hilarious, but horrific. Come on!”

She runs to the floo, hearing Harry and Ginny behind her. She shoves the cloak at them.

“Narcissa drunk? Oh this is gonna be good,” Ginny laughs.

Hermione makes sure the cloak is covering Ginny and Harry…just about…and then pulls them all into the floo. “Malfoy Manor!”

The hallway whirls into view. Thank goodness for that. She steps out, trying not to think about it. Focusing on— “Narcissa?”

She says it quietly. Her thoughts should mirror what she’s saying. She’s only saying it out loud for Harry and Ginny’s benefit.

_Ah, here she is. Back again to— I said goodbye. I said goodbye, and walked away, and here she is!_

Hermione shakes her head. “Can you please tell me where you are? I want to talk to you. To see if you’re alright.”

A laugh. _Because you care. You care about me. It’s ridiculous. We’re just— just— I’ve forgotten what you called it. Hallucinators. Lovers who don’t— married._ A groan. _Oh no, I’m married again_

Hermione begins walking up the stairs. “We’re not married. I’m just a friend. Friends look out for one another. Don’t you have work today? At the hospital?”

_Yes. No. What day is it today? What is…_

Hermione shakes her head with a laugh. “It’s Friday, Narcissa.”

_Noo. No that’s cannot be…oh fuck_

Hermione laughs again. “Where are you?”

_I’m in the library_

Hermione freezes on the stairs. “Harry, where’s the—”

_Why did you bring Mr Po— and Miss Weasley. Everyone is in my house_

Oh. Oh she hadn’t thought of that. Narcissa can hear them too. Even under the cloak? Or just through Hermione’s thoughts?

“Narcissa knows you’re here. And she’s in the library, do you know where it is?”

Harry and Ginny reappear a few steps below her. Harry nods and gestures back down the stairs. “This way, come on.”

They follow along. Ginny nudges her. “Library? Hmm, I wonder who else likes libraries? So she got drunk…thinking about…”

Hermione rolls her eyes. “Yes, I get it, Ginny. She does a lot of reading herself, you know. For her research.”

_Secret research_

Hermione ignores the slurred voice in her head. She doesn’t want Narcissa to say something she’ll regret.

_I regret many of the things I have said. Especially to you_

Oh. Ouch. What the hell does that mean?

“Here we are,” Harry announces. “Oh.”

Hermione rounds the corner. Narcissa, lying on a sofa. Still in her healer’s robes, maybe the same ones as yesterday. A book covering her face, and three empty bottles of wine on a table.

“Three bottles?!” Ginny mouthes at her.

Hermione clears her throat. “Narcissa, how about if you don’t go to work today, alright? Just…drink some water and some pepper up potion and get some rest.”

Narcissa wraps her arms around her head, over the book. _Ssshh how are you still so loud? I tried to lower your volume. It isn’t working. And— and I can’t work. It’s too bright in St Mungo’s. All the white. I would die_

Hermione laughs quietly and walks over. So maybe hung over _and_ drunk. She magically cleans a glass and casts an aguamenti to fill it with water. “I’m loud, because I’m right next to you. Here. Drink some water.”

Narcissa groans. Peeks out from under the book and squints up at her. “How did you get here? I sent you away. Far, far, away-away.”

She hears muffled laughter from Harry and Ginny. Narcissa doesn’t seem to notice. Just stares at Hermione.

Hermione smiles at her. She can’t bring herself to be angry with Narcissa right now. “I know you did. But I figured you needed some help. Can I help you upstairs and into bed?”

Oh wait. That sounded—

“Don’t— I didn’t mean—”

Narcissa grins at her. “I know what you meant. I can hear all your whirling thoughts. You think far too quickly. Too quickly for your mouth. A very nice mouth. Oh dear.”

She hides under her arms again. “Oh I also appear to be thinking too quickly. And you were merely being nice. Kind. But you did want me to make love to you last— the night before— whenever it was. You imagined me in your bed. My bed. You were in my bed.”

Hermione feels her face heat up, and tries to block that out. Just all— and especially Harry and Ginny just stood there laughing!

She helps Narcissa sit up and presses the glass of water into her hand. “All the beds are your beds. This is your house. And I already apologised for…thinking those kinds of things. Now drink this.”

Narcissa looks at the water suspiciously, takes a sip, and then dutifully drinks the whole glass. And sighs. “No, I meant you were in _my_ bed. My bedroom. I left you in my bed. Why did I do that? Perhaps Ms Skeeter is right and I am a pathetic old housewitch.”

Oh.

Her bed?

But no, no she— “No! Don’t believe anything that— everything Skeeter said was nonsense. That’s why I came to talk to you. We need to stop her saying all this stuff about us.”

Narcissa tries to stand up. Falls back down again. Gives up. “Oh. Oh yes, she— she’s a liar. That little insect. I should have squashed her _years_ ago. I knew her secret. But she already had something on me so— no.”

She hurriedly shakes her head. “No. Can’t tell anyone that. Oh no. Oh, what if she tells— no. No, she wouldn’t. Bella would— oh.”

Narcissa stares sadly into the distance. Nods to herself resignedly. “Bella’s dead.”

Oh dear. Oh this is probably—

Hermione freezes as Narcissa suddenly focuses her attention back on her. Reaches out and cups her cheeks. Strokes her face. “Sorry. Oh, she hurt you, I’m sorry. She made you cry. She did horrible things. And I didn’t stop— I should have— I was too scared.”

Oh. Hermione stares into blue eyes. Wide blue eyes. Remembers…feels the hands on her cheeks. Takes a breath.

She was too scared?

Okay then.

She smiles at Narcissa. “Don’t worry. I’m alright now. We’re all okay. I don’t blame you. Now, let me help you, okay Narcissa? I’ll help you upstairs to bed.”

Narcissa just groans. “I cannot sleep. I’ve well and truly fucked up my head. It must be my hypothalamus. Or the medulla. I so wanted to sleep. I was— I’m so tired, Hermione. But when you’re here I cannot sleep either. Too many thoughts.”

Someone clears their throat. Ginny. “I can stay.”

Narcissa turns to look at her and Harry. Pales. Puts her head in her hands. “Oh I forgot you brought— gryffindors. Weasleys and— is this my punishment? This feels very much like a punishment.”

Ginny huffs. “Well that’s a nice way of saying thank you. Guess we’ll just leave you here to stew by yourself then.”

Narcissa blinks up at Ginny. Frowns. “I’ve forgotten why I like you. I think you remind me of Andy. She is probably going to be angry with me too. For…”

She spins her head back to look at Hermione. _It is all very confusing, Hermione. Our fictitious relationship is…_

She drifts off. Shakes her head and tries to stand up again. “Someone help me into bed. Perhaps— perhaps Mr Potter. I won’t somehow accidentally seduce you.” She sways, and Hermione hurriedly reaches out to steady her. “No offence intended of course, you’re a very nice young wizard. But for Draco, not for me.”

Harry awkwardly walks forwards and takes Narcissa’s arm. “None taken, Ms Black. Umm, do you have any pepper up potion? I’ve run out at my house, I think. But probably best if you have some.”

Narcissa tuts, and Harry’s eyes widen as she leans forwards and runs her hands through his hair with a frown, trying to flatten it down.

And then stops. Draws back and smiles at him. “You have lovely hair, do not be embarrassed. It is merely habit for me to… Yes, I also miss Draco. So far away…although I’m certainly glad that he’s missing this whole— whole mess! What is—”

She turns to look at Hermione. “What happened, Hermione? How did— this must be your influence. Your head just pulled me in and— and now…”

Narcissa reaches out towards her. And then pulls her arm back. Closes her eyes. _You’re angry with me. Hurt. You are right, I am a coward. How pathetic. I want you to take me to bed. I want—_

Hermione clears her throat. “Narcissa, I think you might regret some of the things you are saying right now. Maybe we should have this conversation later when…tell us where the pepper up potion is, please.”

Narcissa sighs. Opens her eyes. “So clever. You’re very clever. Yes, be quiet, Cissy. Sshh. Okay. In…cabinets. Bathroom cabinets. And hidden in many other places. Perhaps— accio pepper up potion!”

Hermione ducks out of the way of Narcissa’s wand just in time, but is surprised to see that she got the wand movement right. A few vials begin to zoom toward them from different sides of the room, and Harry and Ginny both reach out to grab them. Hermione reaches out to steady Narcissa as Harry lets go of her

Narcissa wobbles, and grins. “Ha! I knew it. I wonder what else is hidden away in here? It is such a big house. I thought it was empty. Cold and empty. Apparently not.”

Ginny holds a few vials up to the light. “Pepper up doesn’t expire, does it? Who knows how old this stuff is?”

Hmm. That’s true. Normally the first sign would be—

“Discolouration, yes. Or separation between liquid densities. Perhaps you’re right, Miss Weasley. I have some more recently prepared potions in my bedroom cabinet. Best to drink those. If…if I can get there. My house is far too big. I should sell it. No. No, too dangerous. Oh somebody make me stop talking! Hermione, cast a silencio at me. I’m rambling. Truly rambling, not forced politeness. Which I still do not think—”

Hermione presses her hand over Narcissa’s mouth. It’s too good of an opportunity to— _Screaming, Ms Black_

Narcissa stills. Hermione feels breath on her palm. And then a kiss pressed against it. She takes a sharp breath.

_Apologies. Couldn’t resist. I really should drink some pepper up potion before I make even more of a fool of myself_

Hermione slowly pulls her hand back. “Do you think we could side-apparate you? Or will it make you feel sick?”

Narcissa groans. “Do not apparate me. The squeezing is dreadful. Somebody needs to invent a superior form of apparition. Like house-elves. Far more comfortable means of…oh. Oh, no. Can’t use elves anymore.”

Right. This isn’t getting them anywhere. And apparently a drunk Narcissa can talk for days, and there just isn’t time. It’s obvious what they should do.

“Okay. Harry, you have work today, so you should actually get going. Narcissa, will the wards let me apparate into your bedroom to get the potion?”

Narcissa shakes her head. “My bedroom is still warded. I never removed it after the war. Protection wards.”

Harry nods. “Same as Draco’s old room. Only them in or out. Or someone else if they side-apparate them in or willingly open the door. Maybe I should stay and—”

That’s ridiculous. Harry had a day off work yesterday. He shouldn’t—

“Ginny and I can manage to get Narcissa upstairs. Or just one of us but— Ginny, you honestly don’t have to stay. I don’t know if you meant your offer but—”

Ginny takes Narcissa’s other arm with a scoff and starts helping Hermione walk Narcissa out of the room. “Hermione, look at her. She’s a right state. Someone has to stick around, and you have too much work. I don’t have any plans today, and she’ll need to sleep so—” she shrugs. “Nothing better to do.”

That’s very nice of—

Narcissa huffs. “And you know that I’m a Slytherin, and think that I will owe you a favour. Which is true. And that I shall be embarrassed. Revenge for my cruel behaviour towards Hermione. You are rather cunning for a Gryffindor, Miss Weasley.”

Wha— “Ginny!”

Narcissa laughs. “Oh so you _were_ nearly a Slytherin! And— Oh. You’re right, Miss Weasley. I should not be looking. I seem to always be in someone else’s head these days. Perhaps I’m avoiding my own.”

They all fall into an awkward silence.

And then it worsens as they reach the hallway. Narcissa leans to whisper in her ear. “Don’t look. I don’t want you to— oh I wish I could kiss you again to make it all go away. Just don’t look, darling.”

Hermione holds back a shiver at the hot breath in her ear. Oh damn it all. Why does Narcissa have to be so— _Don’t call me that, Narcissa. Just don’t. No more of—_

She sighs. No use having this conversation right now. And she’ll be late for work if she doesn’t hurry.

She carefully extricates herself from Narcissa. Who leans heavily into Ginny.

“I have to go. You’re sure you’ll both be alright?”

Ginny snorts. “We’ll have a blast. Stop worrying, Hermione. I’m a quidditch player. Looking after drunk, stubborn witches is part of the job description. I’ll get her into bed,” Ginny winks.

Hmm. She’d better not. She knows that—

Harry drags her toward the fireplace by the shoulders. “She’s kidding, Hermione. Come on. We’ll stop by later, Gin. Or owl us or something. Goodbye, Ms Black,” he calls out.

Right. He’s right. They really do have to go. She follows him into the floo, unsure if her house is still blocked. She’ll go to his place first, just in case.

 _Hermione?_ Narcissa sighs. _I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have— I acted horribly. Coldly. Shut you out. I shouldn’t have shut you out. I wish… I’m sorry_

What?

Hermione spins around to look at Narcissa.

Empty hallway. They’ve already walked away

And the fire roars green around her.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. I can't believe how many kudos and comments this has, have I told you guys how amazing you are? Because you are. Thank you so much!

Flowers. Flowers are sat on her desk. In a vase. How did…

She’d only been in a brief departmental meeting. How did Narcissa…did she deliver them personally?

Because it was obviously Narcissa. Daffodils. Or, in Latin, narcissus.

Unless it’s a trap. Anyone could have seen the Prophet and sent them to her.

She draws her wand. Casts some detection spells. Nothing. She looks around at her colleagues. They’re all avoiding her gaze. But some are smiling.

Padma wanders over and grins at her. “Well, well. I wonder who those could be from? Is there another note?”

Hermione doesn’t even have to pretend to be shyly embarrassed. This is very awkward. She hasn’t seen Narcissa since this morning, and there hasn’t been any news from Ginny about what’s going on. But the flowers do seem to be a bit of a clue that she’s back to her usual self. And not asleep.

She searches around for a note. There isn’t one. “No, no note today. But as you say, I think I know who they’re from. Did…anyone see her come in?”

Padma shrugs, bends down to smell the flowers. “I was in the meeting with you, so were most people. No one’s said anything.”

Hmm. It was a convenient time for them to arrive. She looks at her watch. Nearly lunchtime.

But…

Is the fake relationship back on?! Because she can’t just pretend nothing happened! Flowers don’t fix this whole— and they’re probably just for Skeeter. For this fake…

So forget about the real relationship. This is about revenge on Skeeter.

She clears her throat. “She probably knows I feel bad about this morning’s paper,” she says, loud enough for everyone to eavesdrop. “It’s just so hard, you know? Haven’t I been through enough with the war and— I just want a fresh start with Narcissa, is that too much? Why does Skeeter have to— I mean…you saw the paper again today, right? It made me look awful! I try so hard to promote peace and freedom and— and this is what I get? For being in a relationship that makes me happy?”

Padma frowns at her. Rubs her arm awkwardly, not the best at emotional outbursts. She feels bad for putting this on Padma, but she’s the one who walked over, so…

A throat clears. Jonathon with an armful of scrolls. “Ms Granger, these just came through the chute for you.”

He puts them down on her desk and steadies them as they roll around.

She catches one that almost falls on the floor, and he smiles apologetically. “Thanks, still getting the hang of this. And…I know I shouldn’t have been listening, none of my business but— but just so you know, I don’t believe what the Prophet has been saying about you. I— I mean I know you and Ms Black are— I mean the uhh, gold digging thing. I know you wouldn’t do that, so don’t worry if— people will see the real you, Ms Granger. We still remember everything you’ve done, and what you’re doing right now for civil rights.”

Oh. Oh he’s so sweet. She’s actually quite touched. Now she feels bad for lying about…

“Oh!” he adds. “And of course I don’t believe the stuff about Ms Black either. When I got home yesterday, I was telling Mum not to believe all the rubbish in the Prophet about you, and my brother said he’d met Ms Black before. He’s only a kid, not at Hogwarts yet. But he said he recognised her picture in the paper. We all laughed at him, but he insisted. Said she was his angry angel. Turns out some older kids were bullying him in Flourish and Blotts whilst he waited for me to get my school stuff last year. She must have overheard. Came and scared them off for him. I don’t know what she did, but no one’s bothered him since, and he’s determined to be in Slytherin now.”

Angry angel? How adorable. Now Hermione is definitely smiling sappily. An angry angel…well that’s better than an ice queen. And more fitting. Not that Narcissa is particularly angelic… but—

“What’s his name? Your brother?” Hermione asks.

At this, Jonathon hesitates. And then adjusts his robes. “He, umm, he’s in between names at the moment. Hasn’t decided. We just call him kid, it’s still a bit…new…”

Oh. Oh!

Hermione continues smiling, starts sorting through the scrolls on her desk. “Well, let me know what he comes up with. Maybe I can persuade the Angry Angel to write a letter to him for sticking up for her yesterday.”

Jonathon’s face lights up. “She’d do that? The kid would love it. He was talking about her all through breakfast. We uhh…saw the Prophet again. You came up and— but maybe we should stop buying it. What’s that other one, the Quibbler? Is that more trustworthy do you think?”

Yes! “Oh definitely. I don’t know why anyone bothers reading the Prophet anymore, not with Rita Skeeter still being their headliner. I can’t believe they’re letting her write still! She wrote some terrible things about Harry before the war. Perhaps people have forgotten how much she upset him. And now she’s doing it again! She hasn’t stopped tormenting people, and for what? The attention? The scandal? She’s a disgrace to journalism. No integrity. The Prophet’s really gone downhill with her articles.”

She glances around. Some people are nodding in agreement. Ha!

Bring it on, Rita Skeeter.

* * *

Hermione goes home for lunch. It’s a bit of a relief to have some time to herself and not be swinging between putting on an act or having all of her raw thoughts laid out there for her…crush…to hear.

She does send a patronus to Ginny though, asking what the frick is going on.

And anxiously munches on some salad as she waits for a reply.

It’s taking too long. Twenty minutes, and no horse patronus charging through the window?

Did…Ginny do something to push Narcissa one step too far? Not— nothing bad, but… Narcissa could have cast a silencio at her. Or a petrificus totalus. They both have a bit of a temper…

Never mind. They should be okay. They’re both actually very caring and thoughtful people, and Hermione is having such a nice day today and—

Ah. The patronu— a stag? Harry?

The stag bows before her, and then fidgets. Snorts. Jumps up and down. “ _Hermione, come to the Manor, quick! I’ve tried to talk them out of it but— come on! Before these two idiots get themselves killed. Straight through to the garden, I’ll come meet you.”_

What?!

Oh dear Merlin—

She grabs her cloak and runs for the floo, praying that it’s unblocked. “Malfoy Manor!”

And continues running straight down the hall and through to the back of the house. What did Harry mean? Outside or—

Harry comes sprinting through the grounds, waving her over. Outside it is.

What is—?

She runs towards him. “What’s going on? What’s happening?!”

He points behind him and up, into the sky. She stops so she can get a look and not trip over. Oh for the love of—

Two figures on broomsticks, high in the air. Just tiny dots, but clearly visible in the blue sky. Both green. Quidditch robes. One green for the Holyhead Harpies, one green for the Slytherin.

She lets out a groan and starts running again. “What the hell are they doing?!” she yells to Harry, and the sky in general.

Harry jogs along next to her. “Wronski feints, I think. Or some kind of competition. I don’t know how it happened, but they’ve somehow— it’s so stupid! Didn’t Ginny learn from last time she— and as for Narcissa—”

Idiots. She leaves them alone together for half a day and—

Hermione comes to a stop, panting. “Narcissa!” she shouts up into the sky. “You challenged a quidditch player to a wronski feint?! What the hell are you playing at! Do you have a death wish?! Both of you get down here right now!”

_Move out of the way, Hermione. And don’t distract me. I need to focus_

Argh! Hermione folds her arms. “We’re not moving. Why are you doing this? Do you even know how to— and you’ve barely had any sleep. Pepper up potion is not a substitute for—”

_Screaming, Miss Granger_

Hermione grabs fistfuls of her hair in frustration. “Because you’re going to get killed! And kill Ginny too in the process. She hasn’t had time to practice either! You’re a healer you should know better than— fuck!”

She pulls out her wand and hastily backs up as the two figures very quickly get bigger. Closer.

Harry grabs her arm and pulls her further back. “I’ve cushioned the grass. Get ready with an arresto momentum, just in case. I’ll get Ginny, you get Narcissa.”

Hermione nods sharply. Readies her wand and squints up at the sky, trying to see which one has blonde hair. And to think softly. She doesn’t want to distract Narcissa.

The one on the left.

Oh she can’t stand this. She really wants to look away. And—

Okay, she knows nothing about quidditch, but Narcissa is actually keeping up with Ginny rather well, flat to the broom and gaining speed.

“Is there a snitch?” she whispers to Harry, “or is this just a game of chicken?”

And Narcissa and Ginny sharply spiral upwards.

“Snitch,” Harry confirms. “They were going to just speed straight for the ground, but I convinced them the snitch shows more skill. Really I just hoped one of them would catch it before it got too danger—”

Ginny stands up on her broom, high in the sky, and leaps over Narcissa, reaching for the—

Narcissa grabs her ankle and sharply jerks her—

“That’s cheating!” Harry yells. “No grabbing! Only—”

Ginny manages to grab onto the bottom of Narcissa’s broom and spins them around. Now Narcissa is upside down, clinging on and— falling off!

Hermione raises her wand, arresto momentum on the tip of her tongue. She’s falling to—

Falling onto Ginny’s abandoned broom. Shoots up and dodges past Ginny and away, clearly having laid eyes on the snitch.

Harry laughs. “She’s bloody good. Draco never told me she was this good! Full of surprises.”

Hermione can’t help but agree. “I didn’t even know she could fly!” Not that she knows Narcissa at all really. She keeps forgetting how little they know each other.

She glances sideways at Harry, who nods with a smile. “She was on the slytherin quidditch team. Beater. Although she would have made a great seeker by the looks of it. Needs to learn to play by the rules, but—”

Narcissa has edged to the front of her broom, reaching out with both hands as she shoots straight upwards, Ginny on her tail. She must nearly have it. She might actually win at this rate. How incred—

And shouts of frustration echoes down to them as both witches break sharply, wrenching on their broom handles to change direction. The snitch has changed course. And they’re headed back for the ground.

Both Hermione and Harry raise their wands again. This snitch is just determined to—

Closer and closer. Ginny in the lead now. Accelerating towards the grass at breakneck speed.

Oh she really hopes no one actually breaks their—

Ginny’s hand closes around the snitch about two meters from the ground, and she sharply pulls up with a triumphant ‘yes!’ —

And smacks into Narcissa. Oh shit—

There’s a jumble of limbs and green robes just flying through the— “Arresto momentum!” she cries out, hearing Harry do the same.

She hurries over to— ha!

Oh it looks so funny. Slow-motion falling and clinging to each other, eyes squeezed shut. The brooms thud to the floor. The two witches slowly lowered down.

She cancels the spell.

“Ow! Oh you head-butted me right in the jaw!”

“I did no such thing. You are the one who collided— and remove your hands from my person. You’re kneeling on my—”

“How ancient are these quidditch robes? That’s practically a cape!”

Ginny manages to stagger to her feet, stepping off of Narcissa’s robes.

“Ancient? The seventies were not that long ago, Miss Weasley.”

Ginny reaches down and helps Narcissa up. “Long enough for you to be a bit rusty. Told you I could do a Wronski with a bit of practice, and that you were way too hungover to—”

“I am perfectly fine, and very nearly beat you, as you well know,” Narcissa glares.

Ginny glares back.

And then grins. “Yeah. Okay. You were bloody brilliant. Are you really a healer? I can’t nab you for seeker in the next match? I can’t believe you— and this is you on a bad day? What the fuck!”

Narcissa blinks in surprise. Clears her throat uncomfortably at the praise. “I’m afraid my quidditch days are long behind me. It was rather foolish, very fortunate that…well done, Ginevra. Catching the snitch within ten minutes is no easy feat. I’m not sure how long I would have been able to keep up.”

Ginny hands the snitch over to Narcissa with a shrug. “Here. You’d better put that back before it flies off again. And then Draco might kill us. If he finds out we—”

“He won’t find out. Not a word, Miss Weasley. You promised. Not a word on any of my secrets.” She points a finger at Ginny, who nods, rolling her eyes.

Hermione just watches this back and forth in bemusement. What on Earth happened this morning? They’re friends now?

Ginny throws an arm over Hermione’s shoulder. “Sorry. Tried to kill her for you. She’s just too stubborn. Maybe I’ll sneak some poison into her lunch.”

Narcissa waves her wand at the brooms, sending them flying off. “Please. As if I could be poisoned. You’d never get that past me without me—”

“No more challenges!” Harry shouts. Everyone turns to look at him.

He runs a hand through his hair embarrassedly. “Sorry. Stressful morning. And you have to admit, I’ve had to imagine telling Draco that his mother is in hospital way more than is normal for— he left last week! How do I already have so many secrets to keep from him?!”

They all head towards the house, and Narcissa trains her eyes on the ground guiltily. “You are quite right, Mr Potter. This has not been…my behaviour over the past…my apologies. And…”

She looks up at Hermione. _May I speak with you? Alone?_

Hermione stills. Takes a slow breath. She doesn’t know…

What is there to say? What does— she doesn’t know what she wants herself! How can she have this conversation when—

It’s all a bit much. Maybe she’s the one freaking out now. Because—

Fake relationship. Real relationship. At the same time. All the acting, and lying, and legilimency, and...

She doesn’t know what to do. She’s scared of getting hurt again. And confused.

Harry and Ginny have walked away. They probably think they’re talking in her head but…

Oh she hates the stupid legilimency. She wants her head back to herself.

Narcissa cautiously steps closer. “I have a suggestion, if you would like to hear it?”

Hermione finds herself nodding. Yes. Someone else solve this problem please.

Narcissa nods back. “What if…we were to pretend I cannot hear you. If we avoid speaking in our minds, only converse out loud. And…instead of presenting a romantic relationship to the press, we can merely show them…whatever our relationship is. Friendship.”

Friendship? So…just hang out as friends, and let people think what they want? “Do we tell people that we’re just friends now? Because they already know that we’re…and we’re not just friends, Narcissa. You— you know that I— we both know that— is that what you want? Friendship?”

Narcissa smooths down her quidditch robes with a sigh. “I don’t know. I just know that it was all much too fast, and…” She shakes her head. “I know of course that friendship is not all it is. That we both hold…an attraction to each other. Denying that is probably futile at this point, correct?”

Both of them? Finally! She knew she wasn’t imagining the flirting! It wasn’t just for Skeeter or— is that why she ran? Is that why—

“No,” Narcissa chuckles. “No, it’s far more pathetic than that. Oh this is— well. I suppose I cannot embarrass myself further after this morning. No, attraction is not what…panicked me. I’m well aware of my attraction to you. No it’s… I have never had a friend before. Had a relationship that is…your thoughts shocked me. Having to confront…And I admit, running away was not the best course of action.”

She steps closer. Searches Hermione’s eyes. “I _am_ sorry, Hermione. Truly.”

Hermione searches her eyes right back. She seems to mean it. To genuinely regret what she did. But Hermione is still a bit angry. Still— “How do I know you won’t just run away again? Block me out? You’ll still be reading my thoughts. I’ll still have to be careful what I think around you. And I’ll know even _less_ about what you’re thinking if you don’t talk back!”

She folds her arms at Narcissa. Grits her teeth and waits for an answer, or for her to close up again and—

Narcissa huffs. “And what do you suggest? Your thoughts are just _there_. I cannot control your— I believe that was our original intention before all of this. Meet in the evenings to resolve the issue? Until then—”

See! Closing up. Again. It’s not about Hermione’s thoughts. It’s about Narcissa’s thoughts. She doesn’t want to find herself frozen out again. Blocked out. She’s vulnerable enough in this situation. It might be just too hard to— maybe she should leave and—

Narcissa grabs her arm, eyes wide. “Don’t—”

And snaps her mouth shut. Lets go, and looks down at her own hand like it has betrayed her.

Hermione just waits. Pulls her cloak around her more tightly. There’s a chill.

“You’re right,” Narcissa eventually murmurs. “You were right at the café, and you’re right now. It isn’t fair that I can hear your every thought, and yet you know nothing about me. That you— Alright. I am going to try.”

Narcissa smooths down some flyaway hairs and nods to herself. “This is not easy for me, Hermione. I don’t— I keep people out. I am surrounded, bombarded with _everyone_. All those thoughts and— it is easier to block out the whole world, to keep myself separate, than to sort through the crowd. A mind is— it is an intimate place. Fragile. I— sometimes it is too much to— like an assault of— of thoughts, and fears— it— I don’t know— it is not always—"

Wow. Okay, stuttering? Narcissa is stuttering. This is— this must be big for her. Difficult.

Hermione reaches out, and slowly pulls Narcissa towards her. Pushes all romantic or sexual thoughts away and cautiously wraps her arms around her. “Narcissa? It’s okay. You don’t have to— Umm… and I do know some things about you. I know that you’re stubborn. That you put everyone else first, and hate asking for help. That you have a quick temper. And a quicker tongue."

She feels cautious hands against her back, and continues. "You’re witty. And funny. You’re so funny, I haven’t laughed this much in— and gods you’re a flirt. I can’t believe some of the things you’ve— anyway. The point is, you haven’t been closing yourself off from me, and that’s…that’s why I like you. Everything I’ve seen, I like. Why do you think I’ve been spending so much time with you? Chose to do this with you?”

Narcissa pulls back. Wets her lips. “So you’re not angry with me for violating your privacy? For…it frustrates you. That I can read your thoughts. Distresses you. And I haven’t been…trying terribly hard to stop them. I’ve been listening. It’s wrong. I’ve been…some kind of voyeur. I hate that I— I want to make it stop. To leave you in peace.”

A voyeur? She supposes that’s kind of accurate. But—

Hermione shakes her head with a smile. “It’s fine. We’ll do some research and figure something out. But until then, don’t feel too bad. I know that if I had your thoughts being shouted at me, I’d listen too. I’d be curious.”

Narcissa lets out a soft breath. “Alright then. May…may I remind you if you’re being too loud? To think more softly?”

Hermione hooks her arm through Narcissa’s with a smile. Starts walking toward the house. “Of course. Just tell me to shut up. It’s what friends do you know. Or people who aren't just...acquaintances or allies. Speak their minds. And I don’t quite believe that you’ve never had friends. Isn’t Healer Podsley your friend? And I think you’re friends with Ginny already! How did that happen?”

Narcissa doesn’t reply. Hermione looks sideways at her. She looks shocked.

_What? What is it?_

Still no voice in her head.

Okay. Apparently this is what they’re doing now. Open communication. Vocal communication.

Hermione grins. “Spit it out, Narcissa.”

Narcissa slowly shakes her head. And then smiles. “I was just thinking…about Lucius.”

Oh. Lucius?

Well. She supposes she— that’s allowed. Hermione isn’t jealous that—

Narcissa chuckles. “I was wishing I could see his face when he hears that I am friends with a _Weasley_.”

Hermione laughs. “Oh! Oh I see, me too. Can I be there when you tell him? Whenever that will be. Where is he, France?”

Narcissa shrugs. “I have no idea. I have been…cut from pureblood society. Well. Only certain circles. The ones I am glad to see the back of.”

They’ve reached the back door. They stop. There’s still…

Hermione leans against the doorway and turns to look at Narcissa. “What do we tell people? Colleagues. Harry and Ginny. The Weasleys. Andy. We need a final decision on the story and…everything.”

Narcissa’s eyes drift over her. “The truth. That we are in a very new relationship, and are still getting to know each other. We haven’t defined it yet, but we like spending time with one another, and wish for that to continue. And that we’d prefer if they did not pry, and let our private lives be private.”

Oh.

That works.

It’s…nice. They can just be them. Spend time together. Relax.

She smiles at Narcissa. And then stops smiling. Thinks intensely about everything work related. Contracts, and meetings and— “Hey, do you know what?” she says seriously.

Narcissa raises an eyebrow at her.

Hermione grins once more. “You have grass in your hair.”

Narcissa’s hands fly to her hair. And then she freezes. “You’re lying.”

Hermione laughs. Got her. Looks like she might be able to hide some of her thoughts after all. With a bit of practice.

This could be fun.


	14. Chapter 14

Hermione continues laughing, watching Narcissa’s fingers twitch at her sides, still wary of the possible grass in her hair. “Sorry. Couldn’t resist. Now come on. I need to get back to work, and you need to get some sleep. You didn’t sleep at all last night, and with all this quidditch I doubt you slept much this morning so— and the flowers! When did you send me flowers?”

Narcissa gestures for her to go through the door first. “Ginevra convinced me. I thought it would aggravate you further, add confusion to our relationship, but she told me to make my intentions clear. Be truthful with you, as you deserve, and not let my…faults get the better of me.”

Hermione frowns. “Ginny said that? That doesn’t sound like her.”

And umm…do daffodils have a secret meaning? She might have to read into flower meanings, because it’s still not exactly clear…

She turns around. Oh. Narcissa is pulling her quidditch robes off over her head in the doorway. Whatever she’s wearing underneath has ridden up and her stomach—

Hermione hurriedly looks away again. Stupid legilimency and— and she’s never found quidditch players attractive before, but there’s something about the confidence and physical—

Narcissa clears her throat. “What Miss Weasley actually said, was ‘stop jerking Hermione around, get over yourself, and grow a pair’. I chose to paraphrase. But she had the right intentions, and a point. She is a good friend to you.”

Now that sounds more like Ginny.

Also…are they just ignoring Hermione’s wandering thoughts now? She guesses so, seeing as the rest of her thoughts are being ignored too. It’s a bit of a relief…but also…strange. The elephant in the room.

“So…I told Harry and Ginny about your sleeping problem.” Hermione says cautiously. Blatant subject change.

Narcissa walks up next to her. She’s let her hair down and is running her fingers through some tangles with a frown. Hermione ignores how her own fingers are itching to run through blonde tresses…or create some tangles of her own as— stop thinking about that!

Narcissa puts her hair back up with a wave of her wand. “Yes. And I cannot say it does not bother me, but that was an understandable reaction to…I have already had them both sign a confidentiality agreement. Magically binding. It shall be fine.”

What had they been talking about? Oh. Magically—

She turns to Narcissa, open mouthed. Grabs her arm. “What kind of agreement?! What happens if they break it?! Why haven’t you made me—”

“Screaming, Miss Granger. Nothing as bad as— as I am sure you are imagining. A standard agreement used at St Mungo’s. No unbreakable vows or blood quills or what have you. All above board.”

Okay. Okay that’s—

She’s still holding Narcissa’s arm. She’d unwittingly moved closer. Leaned closer, to search her eyes for the truth, and…

And if their relationship is new, and up to them, then…

Then…

Her eyes fall to Narcissa’s lips…

And Hermione pulls away. Quickly walks off. She has to— “I have to get back to work!” she calls over her shoulder. She doesn’t— she doesn’t know what’s allowed now. What their relationship is. How slow—

“Wait!”

Narcissa’s voice echoes down the corridor.

Hermione turns back around. Narcissa shouting? Out loud? That never happens.

Narcissa can’t seem to believe it either. Snaps her mouth shut and taps a finger to her lip, as if her mouth spoke before she knew what she wanted to say.

“I…would you like to come for dinner tonight? Not for the Prophet. Or legilimency. Just…I’d like it if you would.”

Oh. Oh now Hermione’s the one running away, and Narcissa is trying to fix their relationship.

Open and honest. Okay. Okay, Hermione can do that. She walks back over to Narcissa.

“Yes. Yes, I’d like to have dinner with you. And…maybe we can both have a think about…how fast or slow we want things to go. I’d like that. Oh! Oh and I think I’ve made some progress with the Rita Skeeter problem. Just in the office, but people are siding with us over her, so that’s something. And— well I’ll tell you more at dinner.”

Narcissa smiles at her. “That all sounds wonderful. I’ll see you at…seven?”

Seven. “Great.” She smiles.

Narcissa is staring at her.

Umm… _What? What is it?_

No reply.

Oh wait. Again, she needs to talk out loud. How strange that she’s so quickly developed this habit of just letting Narcissa read her thoughts.

She clears her throat. “I should get going then. Unless there’s anything else…”

Narcissa continues looking at her. “You…have a beautiful smile,” she says hesitantly. “I enjoy watching you smile. And laugh. That is partially why I tease you so often. To watch you laugh. Or frown. You are still beautiful when you frown.”

Beautiful? Oh.

Has anyone ever called her beautiful? Said it and meant it? In more than— her friends have said it. Her parents. Said she _looks_ beautiful. Said it to reassure her. Bolster her. Or said it as a fact, said ‘of course you’re beautiful’ or ‘don’t be silly, you’re beautiful’.

But to have someone say it offhandedly? Tell her? Because she smiled?

And shyly. This isn’t Narcissa flirting. This is her cautiously opening up. Vulnerable.

She kisses Narcissa’s cheek. Doesn’t think about it. Just does it. Just because— because she thinks she might burst if she doesn’t press her lips to Narcissa.

And pulls back. Stares into shocked eyes. “Sorry. I don’t know if that’s— we haven’t discussed—Thank you. You’re beautiful too. All the time, but also when you smile. And even when you glare. You know, a little boy called you his angry angel today. I think I know what he meant.”

Narcissa barks out a laugh, and hurriedly holds a hand over her mouth. “An angry angel? Truly? That is…”

Her hand falls away. There’s a soft smile on her face. “I quite like that. I shall accept that moniker. Far better than the Ice Queen.”

Oh how is Narcissa so adorable? Smiling to herself at the thought of a child calling her an angel. And trying to hide it, expression falling blank…but a glint to her eyes. She’s touched.

Narcissa walks forwards with a sigh. Links her arm through Hermione's and leads them back through the house. A switch has been flicked, Narcissa is back to her confident self. Guess that’s enough vulnerability for now. But Hermione doesn’t mind; setting boundaries is another kind of honesty. Better than Narcissa being uncomfortable.

“I really should get some sleep whilst Miss Weasley is still here. As brash as she is on the outside, my legilimency has no trouble lowering the volume of her thoughts.”

Yep. Sharp subject change. But also… “Really? How strange that it works for some people but not others. And frustrating! Why me?” Hermione thinks aloud.

Narcissa trails an absentminded finger over Hermione’s arm as she considers this. It’s very distracting.

“I have not yet discovered the correlation. I thought perhaps attraction, that you were somehow signalling to me. But seeing as Miss Weasley is no trouble I—”

“You’re attracted to Ginny?!” Hermione blurts out.

Narcissa stops walking. Turns to smirk at her. “I meant that she is attracted to me. But it is nice to know that you are jealous. Don’t you worry, I hold no such feelings for the witch. She is far too much like Andromeda for that. It would seem…no. No, definitely not.”

They continue towards the hall.

Oh how embarrassing. She had been jealous. Is jealous. That Ginny can stay here all day and be of help with her quiet mind whilst Hermione is stuck with foghorn thoughts and having to run back to the office.

They reach the fireplace. Time to go.

She awkwardly pulls away from Narcissa. “Well…goodbye.” This is even worse. All the thoughts left unsaid. The tension. Holding back from—

Narcissa breathes out harshly. Steps closer. Steps back. Clears her throat. Doesn’t say anything.

Guess she’s going then.

She steps into the—

“If you’re thinking it, say it!” Narcissa snaps.

Hermione spins around in confusion. “Thinking what?”

Narcissa tuts and gestures widely. “All of it! All of the— I am not supposed to be hearing your thoughts, so if you wish me to know something, say it aloud! I’m not going to be the one to always take the first step and— well?”

Thoughts she hasn’t been saying?

Oh.

Well…

She readies herself, and moves closer to Narcissa once more. Lets her eyes trail over her face. Because she wants to. Wants to look. Wants to— “I want to kiss you before I leave. I don’t want to go. I hate that I have to leave right now and go to work. And I don’t know what the boundaries are in our relationship anymore, so I’m scared of doing something that’s too much. That will make you close off again.”

Her stomach is squirming. That was difficult. Narcissa is right, open honestly is terrifying when it’s not just thoughts in your head. When you have to actually put yourself out there and—

“If it’s too much, I’ll tell you to stop, Hermione. And that includes our relationship for the press. One advantage of legilimency, is that if you truly step over some sort of line, then I shall be able to reprimand you instantly, and without others knowing, even if my mouth is occupied. But for now, you have done no such thing. And yes. I should like to kiss you goodbye.”

Hermione breathes a sigh of relief and— and anticipation. Thank goodness. Thank—

She leans in and greedily captures Narcissa’s lips with her own. No hesitation. They clearly both want this.

She cups Narcissa's jaw and strokes a thumb across her cheek. Her lips are hot, and soft, and, gods, perfect.

And Hermione is suddenly hit with hundreds of Narcissa’s thoughts.

_…yes…so…closer…should?...Hermione…want…tastes…fuck…more…hot…so…pull back?...no…try…remember breathe…can’t believe…young so…hands…want…clothes…too many…too much…why Friday?...want…now…need…need…soft…warm…want…touch…hard…hide…too…no…control…fuck...taste her…stop…too…time…want…_

Oh. Oh she can hear— is she doing that on purpose? Why is—

And feels hands stroking over her back and around her waist and—

Yes, more touching is a good idea. She is in complete agreement with Narcissa right now. Her thoughts may be wild and bouncing everywhere, but she gets the gist. Too much clothing in the way and not enough time.

She gasps as Narcissa’s tongue swipes across hers. Pulls the witch as close as possible and loses herself in the sensation. No more thinking. No more even trying to control her thoughts. To fake anything. To hell with it, she just wants to kiss this beautiful witch until she can’t breathe.

_…oh…open thoughts…why…don’t stop, too…yes…no…touch…stop it…wait...too…stop!_

Narcissa pushes on her shoulders, and Hermione jerks back. “I’m sorry. Sorry, I— was that—”

Narcissa gasps for breath. “No, it’s— you could hear me? I didn’t intend to— you could hear my subconscious thoughts?”

Oh. So that wasn’t on purpose? “Yes…the same as…as you showed me the other night. Just all…blurred together.”

Narcissa’s eyes widen, hands still on Hermione’s shoulders. “Can you hear anything now?” she whispers.

Hermione concentrates. She doesn’t think so. Seems to just be her own thoughts.

Narcissa breathes a sigh of relief. And then laughs harshly. Leans the side of her head against Hermione’s and groans. “Perfect. Another mental mystery. Is it not enough that your thoughts are driving us to distraction, now mine have joined in?”

Hermione feels a laugh bubble out of her own mouth, and she gently rests her chin on Narcissa’s shoulder. Well this is new. She’s actually more shocked by the casual touching. It’s nice, just unexpected.

“I’ll let you know if your thoughts start shouting back at me if you’d like,” she jokes. “Tell you to think softly.”

Narcissa sharply pulls back to meet her gaze, forehead pinched in concern. “I wasn’t shouting, was I? Oh how dreadful. I’m sure my thoughts were rather—”

Hermione smiles. “No, you weren’t shouting all your sexual fantasies at me, don’t worry.”

The concern on Narcissa’s face turns into a strange mixture of horror and intrigue, and Hermione laughs. “Again, I’m joking!”

Narcissa pushes her away with a huff. “Go to work, you horrible witch. Go on. I shall see you at seven for dinner. And don’t be late. I don’t like to be kept waiting.”

Hermione just continues smiling, grabbing some floo powder and stepping backwards into the floo. “Should I bring dessert? Drinks?”

Narcissa smiles. “As you may recall, I’ve drank enough wine for the week. Although I’m sure I shall be able to provide adequate refreshments. Dessert included, of course. Who do you take me for?”

Narcissa raises an elegant eyebrow. Of course. The perfect hostess.

Wait. A hostess who hasn’t had any time, or sleep. Who said she no longer uses elves, and lives alone. So…

Hermione taps her lip in thought, smiling smugly. “Molly sent you a cake, didn’t she? Because she thought you were too thin.”

Narcissa freezes. And then folds her arms. “Perhaps. But I did not say that it was _my_ dessert. Only that— and it’s hardly my fault that I’ve had no time or energy or— and how did you know that—”

Hermione comes back out of the floo. Looks like she’ll never leave at this rate. Keeps getting sucked back in. “She’s done the same thing to me before. Annoying and mothering…but the cake is so good that it’s a guilty pleasure, right? I’m surprised you have any left. When did she send it?”

Narcissa purses her lips. “She sent it on Tuesday. There is…half a cake left,” she admits grudgingly.

And then shoots a furtive look over her shoulder. “I swear to Salazar she has some secret ingredient that— I’ve considered testing it. Trace amounts of…there must be something! It _cannot_ just be _love_ and _care_ or whatever she— the witch has some kind of culinary magic! It’s the only explanation!”

Hermione’s mouth falls open. That’s— “That’s what I’ve been saying! For years! Ron always scoffed at me but— better than Hogwarts? And the cravings! It’s like withdrawal!”

Narcissa laughs. “Cake withdrawal? You do not truly believe the effects are that strong? That would be far too Slytherin.”

Slytherin?

She eyes Narcissa suspiciously. “Have…you ever drugged someone? Put…something in their food? Or drink?”

Narcissa’s expression falls flat. She slowly blinks.

Is…that a yes? A signal of some kind?

And then Narcissa straightens. “Ginevra is coming to shout at us. At me. For detaining you, and for wasting her time by not taking advantage of her presence for sleeping.”

And sure enough, Ginny walks around the corner at the far end of the corridor, glaring at them.

Oh shoot! She is late and—

She hastily kisses Narcissa on the cheek. “Bye. See you at seven. Good luck with— and don’t eat anything she gives you at lunch. She was probably kidding about the poison, but she saw George recently so—”

Narcissa grimaces. “Yes, I have mistakenly eaten a ton-tongue toffee in the past, offered to me by Teddy of all people. I’ve learnt my lesson and— go. You are late. Goodbye, Hermione.”

Hermione takes one last look at Narcissa, smiling at the mental image of her with a four-foot-long tongue and a laughing Teddy, and floos away.

* * *

It’s nearing six o’clock when the owl flies through her office window. Narcissa’s owl. She really needs to ask its name, seeing as its making a regular appearance in her life now.

Jonathon spots it, and just smiles at her knowingly as it lands at the edge of Hermione’s desk and holds out its leg. Another letter.

> _Hello Darling,_
> 
> _I apologise for disrupting your work once more, (a habit, it seems), but in the spirit of openness that we have recently established, I should like to make a request._
> 
> _I hope it is not too impertinent of me, but may we dine at your house tonight? I find myself…well. Let us say that some uncomfortable memories have resurfaced. They do so from time to time, and I know that you of course will understand just what I mean when I say my living arrangement is not ideal._
> 
> _Tonight I would like to be fully in the present. A new beginning. (Incidentally the meaning of the flowers sat before you. Had you deciphered that yet?)_
> 
> _I shall of course still prepare dinner, as promised. The least I can do after…this morning. Again, forgive me._
> 
> _I look forward to your response,_
> 
> _N_

Oh. A real message. For her, not the Prophet. And achingly honest.

Narcissa really is trying. And…oh she hates to think of her stuck in that horrible house. Why does she still live there? Why not— and of course they can stay at Hermione’s! She needs to—

She grabs some parchment and a stray quill. Scribbles down an answer. Nothing as well-worded or elegantly written as Narcissa’s, but she only has an hour to finish up the report she’d been making notes on so—

And anyway. It’s honest. Narcissa sees her thoughts anyway, so it’s not like she needs to write anything pretentious or deliberately romantic. She can’t help making a joke or two though.

> _Hello Angry Angel,_
> 
> _Of course you can come over! And feel free to use my kitchen if you want. Just watch out for Crooks, he’s a bit of a tripping hazard._
> 
> _The daffodils. Of course. Why didn’t I think of that? I hope this isn’t a completely new beginning though, I think being chased by a tiger and set upon by a hat is interesting enough to not write out of our story. And much better than whatever Skeeter is cooking up for tomorrow’s paper._
> 
> _I won’t mention this morning. As you said, it was punishment enough._
> 
> _(But also very funny, Narcissa, you have to admit. Is that why you want a new beginning so badly? Because I don’t think I’ll be forgetting any time soon. Sorry.)_
> 
> _I have to get back to work, I’ll see you at seven as promised,_
> 
> _H_

Right. Now, where was she? Ah. Fair representation of…

Back to the report. And the clock ticks closer to seven.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Probably later than you expected but...
> 
> This chapter is a bit longer than usual. 
> 
> And that may be because there is some smut. A lot of smut. Yep. It's happening. Not suitable for work, people!

Hermione takes one last breath, hesitating in front of the floo in the ministry atrium. A date. A real date.

She smooths down her clothes. Her hair. Okay. Okay she—

“Traitor!”

And something splashes over Hermione from head to toe. Cold and—

She wipes it off of her face, gasping. Squints—

A wizard is being dragged away by some aurors. Snarling and struggling. “Filthy Malfoy lover! You have blood on your hands now, Granger! We haven’t forgotten what they did! Murderers! Torturers! Get off me! She’s the one who should be behind bars. Her and her cougar girlfriend, hidden away in her manor house whilst we—”

One of the Aurors casts a silencio at him and everything falls deathly silent. Hermione tries to calm her heart rate. Tries to—

Breathe, Hermione. Just—

She stares at her arms in shock, pulse in her ears. Red liquid…

She starts shaking. Leans against the side of the floo and— and—

Not blood. Paint. Just paint.

“Tergeo,” she whispers. It goes away. A red stain remains.

“Ms Granger! Ms Granger, are you—”

No. It’s okay. She’s fine!

She pulls herself together. Raises her chin and rolls her shoulders back. She’s fine.

She steps into the floo. Goes home.

“Ah. There you are. A few minutes late, but—”

Narcissa’s eyes widen and she gasps, hurries to the floo, diagnostic spells flying from her wand. “Are you alright? Where are you hurt? What is—”

Hermione smiles reassuringly. “Narcissa, I’m fine. It’s paint. Red paint. Just a…”

Narcissa lowers her wand arm in relief. Hermione tries to relax too. Tries to just think about how beautiful Narcissa is, and sweet for worrying. Tries not to think about how—

How—

She steps forward and wraps her arms around Narcissa, letting out a shuddering breathe. “It was so frightening. I didn’t know— so unexpected— the shock of— I didn’t see it coming. I thought—”

Narcissa hugs her tightly. Makes soothing shushing noises in her ear. “I know. Oh it’s alright, darling. You’re alright. You’re home. You’re safe. What a horrible— oh.”

Oh no. Oh she must have seen the memory.

Hermione pulls back. Presses her hand over Narcissa’s mouth. “Don’t. Please. Just— it was his fault, okay? The wizard. It was— he was just angry. It wasn’t anything to do with you. With us. It was—”

Narcissa pulls her hand away. “No,” she growls. Seethes. Eyes burning.

And then she lunges forwards and presses her lips to Hermione’s. Firm. Angry. Wrenches back. “No. This was Rita Skeeter’s fault. Her, and her sharp quill and her— her thoughtless lies. She—”

Hermione freezes in shock as Narcissa kisses her again. And again. Hot kisses to her cheek and her forehead and her neck and—

“She did this to you. Marked you. Stoked the flames, with no care for the devastation she’s wrought. For the pain— she’s going to pay for this. I’m going to make her. She has gone too far with her—”

She pulls back. “Go have a shower. Wash off this— and then we will have dinner. She is not ruining dinner. But afterwards? Tomorrow? Tomorrow she is going to pay the price. Her career is over!”

And with that Narcissa whirls around and marches into the kitchen.

Hermione stands there in her living room for a good thirty seconds. And then runs a hand over her face. Walks dazedly towards the bathroom.

Okay. Wow.

She really is dating a Slytherin.

* * *

She puts on a dress for dinner. It feels a bit silly, for dinner at her own dining table, but…

Oh gods, she wants to look nice for Narcissa. She’s never had a crush this bad. And Narcissa can still _hear_ her, so that’s even more embarrassing to—

And that’s something she want to change.

 _Narcissa? I don’t think we should ignore the legilimency._ She thinks as she finishes drying her hair. _It just feels…like the elephant in the room. I mean hippogriff. Muggles say— anyway. It feels like we’re not being honest_

No reply. Hermione sighs.

And Narcissa walks through her bedroom door. Leans against the doorway. “It was rather difficult, earlier today. Hearing all your thoughts and not responding,” she smiles. “I’m used to it of course, but usually people are not aware that I am listening in.”

Hermione smiles back. “So…the legilimency is back?”

_Yes. Back in each other’s heads. Not that you ever left mine_

Hermione feels herself relax. She’s missed this. She hadn’t realised how much. Acknowledging the thoughts. Talking to each other.

Narcissa clears her throat. _So we are not holding back? What happened to our…new boundaries?_

Oh. Umm… _Well, we can still discuss that. Maybe over dinner? What did you make? It smells wonderful_

Narcissa raises an eyebrow and turns around. Hermione follows her out.

_I hope that wasn’t a deliberate subject change. But I shall play along. I’m afraid it is nothing overly special. Lemon ricotta pasta. One of Draco’s latest recipes. I’ve never had to cook myself and what with my work at St Mungo’s…well. Pasta is the length and breadth of my culinary capabilities_

Oh. But it _—_ _It wasn’t a subject change! I’m just hungry. And lemon ricotta definitely sounds special. I usually throw something strange together from whatever’s in my cupboard. Or go to Harry’s. Is that where Draco got his new…cooking enthusiasm?_

…Candles. There are candles on the table. This is a date. A date with Narcissa. A romantic—

“You’re not going to run away, are you Miss Granger? Because if so, I recommend vanishing the wine bottles.”

Oh. Hermione moves to sit down. They’re joking about that now? Seems a bit soon. Maybe a defence mechanism for—

“Will you stop psychoanalysing me!” Narcissa snaps. Oh dear.

“Oh I’m sorry,” Hermione says, reaching across the table for Narcissa’s hand. “That was unfair. I told you it was funny and now— and I’m not going anywhere. I don’t know why I’m being so…strange, about this. I guess I can’t quite believe— it feels a bit surreal, that’s all. You. Dating me.”

She looks away. Pours them both a glass of water to distract herself.

Narcissa squeezes her hand before pulling away to take a sip of water. _I should not have snapped. Especially at a throw away thought. And…I understand. You are a very impressive witch, Hermione. I cannot quite believe that you are interested in me either. All I have ever done is mock you and then…throw money at some causes as an apology._

Hermione slowly looks up. “Did you…all those years ago, did you really believe it? The slurs you said. The…looking down at people. You heard our thoughts. Surely you…heard the truth?”

Now Narcissa is the one looking away. Staring intently at her plate. Hermione feels her stomach clench. This is a difficult topic. But one they really need to talk about. She just desperately hopes…

“I…did not believe it to the extent that I portrayed. I never believed muggles to be animals. As you say, I heard their thoughts. Their inner lives, so similar to our own. But…I was fearful of what the muggle world could do. I still am. If they were to believe us a threat…muggles have technology which could devastate— but of course I know that this is my prejudice talking. That muggles are no worse or better than us. And that muggleborns want nothing more than to be accepted into our world, and share their own world— your own world— with us.”

She looks up. “But fighting the prejudice rooted inside of me still has its challenges. I’m ashamed to say the fear persists. I do my best to quash it. And I hope you don’t think less of me for telling you.”

Oh. Fear? Not hatred? Never hatred?

That’s…

_No. No I don’t think less of you. In fact I think I respect you more for admitting that. I think many wizards think the same thing, even if they are accepting of muggleborns. Advanced technology and warfare are still subjects I’m hesitant to bring up. Even with my friends_

She continues eating. Gosh. This has suddenly gotten rather tense. Heavy. What happened to romance?

 _Yes, what on Earth are we talking about?_ “You look lovely, by the way.”

Hermione smiles across at Narcissa. “Thank you. So do you.”

And then she frowns, a thought occurring to her. “Oh you always get in there with the compliment first! It makes me seem so insincere. But you do look lovely. Beautiful.”

Narcissa smirks at her. _Actually, your mind has commented on my beauty rather frequently this evening. I’m merely trying to keep up_

Oh. Oh her thoughts are— _Am I shouting at you?_

_No. Just a few thoughts here and there. Not your subconscious. That is thankfully silent for now_

Oh good. The subconscious thoughts are probably the most embarrassing ones. Especially as she doesn’t even know what they’re saying.

Hopefully just thoughts about how amazing this pasta is. Nothing special. Yeah right. This could be served in a restaurant.

She glances up at Narcissa. “So…you don’t want to talk about Rita Skeeter?”

Narcissa continues eating calmly. _No work talk at the table_ she scolds.

Hermione laughs. _Skeeter’s work talk? What happened to your healer career?_

_Placed to one side. Ms Skeeter is top priority and— and once again she is stealing the conversation!_

Hermione shrugs. “She’s talking about us. Why shouldn’t we talk about her? Bad-mouth her?”

Narcissa puts down her cutlery and leans in, eyes gleaming. “That is precisely the plan. We shall publicly denounce her. To colleagues, the press. Any connections we have. Journalism is all about connections. Knowing the right people. Well. I believe Miss Weasley and Mr Potter are suitable supporters of our plight. The fight against prejudice and bigotry. Mr Lovegood still publishes the quibbler. Miss Parkinson is on her way up at Witch Weekly. We can even ask local businesses to boycott Ms Skeeter. Boycott the Prophet until she is…dismissed. I’m sure George Weasley will agree, and perhaps create some form of anti-Skeeter merchandise. Insect-repellent or some such gag.”

Oh! Hermione grins. “Oh George will definitely agree to that. That’s so clever it— and we won’t just seem petty, because it won’t be us going against her. It will be everyone! That’s such a good idea. I’ll have to write to Luna and— Parkinson is tricky because of her own…shaky reputation. But— oh! Is she doing that interview with Ginny that you suggested? Because if we wait until after then—”

“— then Miss Parkinson will have a stronger, loyal fanbase, yes. At the moment she is still not completely trustworthy, much like me. I’d hate to bring her down with us. Slytherins still have a stereotype to…do you believe we could enlist the help of Mr Longbottom? Hogwarts? Give some kind of talk on interhouse relations?”

Hermione snorts into her glass of water. She’s not sure if their particular interhouse relationship is quite the message they want to send to schoolchildren. What kind of talk— ‘It’s okay to have a sex scandal with a Slytherin’, ‘Your rival’s mother might be your next date’.

Narcissa clears her throat. “That is why I suggested Mr Longbottom. If we were to go ourselves…well. Yes. Wrong message. Not that there is actually a sex-scandal of which to speak.”

Oh dear Merlin, Narcissa. Don’t say that. She knows her brain is now…

Is…is that happening tonight? No— argh stop thinking about— if— but— spending the night— one bed— is—

Boundaries. What are the boundaries?

What’s stopping them? They’re both single. Attracted to each other. On a date. Are going to sleep together anyway— actual sleeping, legilimency sleeping.

A very tense silence settles. And they’ve finished eating. There isn’t anything to distract them from…

Hermione sends the dishes off to wash themselves in the sink. Sometimes she hates magic. Doing the washing up would be a great tension reliever right now— oh dear, tension— release—

She swallows. “Umm…”

No words. Just nothing to…

Narcissa sighs. “Would you like to spend the night here, or in my…home?”

Oh. That’s…a double meaning. Because there’s only one bed here. So…

She’s asking if you want to sleep with her, Hermione.

Hermione stands up. “I— yes. Yes, let’s stay here. Umm— can I help you with dessert? Molly’s dessert. Not— although I’m actually not hungry so— or coffee? We can sit in the living room or—”

Narcissa stands up with a chuckle. _Screaming, Miss Granger. And rambling. Come. Sit with me in the living room. Coffee is a marvellous idea_

And it means there won’t be a table in the way of— no— stop. Don’t think about—

_…closer…want…beautiful…dress too…hair…oh…thoughts…stop…again...hide…run…leave…no…stay…sit…ignore…touch…move…stop…think…why…_

Her thoughts again? “Narcissa, your thoughts are—”

Narcissa shakes her head frantically, backs away a step. “I know— I can’t— I have no idea why this is happening. I’ve always had complete control of the thoughts I project, and—”

Even as Narcissa speaks, the background thoughts continue.

_Control…lost…childhood…hide…listen...stop…barrier…need…why so…close off…shut…please…try…Andy?...maybe….Bella would…no Bella…legilimency…leave…go…one mile…stay…Hermione…_

Are those her memories? Flashes of— of Narcissa as a child. Growing up with legilimency. Is that Andy? Bellatrix as a child? All three of them…

“I’m sorry, Hermione. This— perhaps I should leave until whatever this is passes. I do not wish to—”

_Leave…run…open…lost…want...stay…alone…why?...stop…stop…stop…_

No, don’t go! Oh this is— okay. Okay what can Hermione do? How can she—

She takes Narcissa’s hand and walks them into the living room. “You can leave if you want. At any time. But it’s okay if your thoughts are shouting for a bit. The same as mine do. You always put up with me so— I’ll just ignore it.”

_…too hard…open…how can…shut…close...hide…Hermione…warm…fire…soft...sit…tired…cat?_

Cat? Oh.

Crookshanks jumps straight onto Narcissa. Crafty. He’s just determined to keep Narcissa here and— oh he’s getting hair all over her and—

“Sorry! Crooks, stop that! Narcissa doesn’t want you all—”

_…soft…warm…purring?...why…stay…warm…touch…_

Hmm. Maybe Narcissa does want him to stay.

Narcissa tuts and puts Crooks back on the floor. “I want no such thing. Another aspect of legilimency that you need to understand. Not all thoughts reflect a person’s true wishes and desires. They are instinctual. Abrupt. Do you really think I of all people put trust in thoughts?”

Hermione frowns. She’d thought Narcissa would be the first person to trust thoughts.

_…alone…separate…heavy burden…never…not thinking…kiss her…_

Wait. What—

Did she just think— she wants to— Narcissa wants to kiss her? Where did that come from?!

Narcissa shakes her head. “And there is exactly what I mean. Do you know the amount of people who walk past me on a daily basis and think about kissing me? Or something more violent? Attacking me? Teaching me a lesson? Wondering what undergarments I am wearing, or who I bribed for my position at St Mungo’s. If I slept my way to the top, or if my belongings hold dark curses. And on, and on.”

Oh. That must be horrible to hear all of the— but most people don’t actually mean it. Just think it and— ah.

Narcissa nods. _Stray thoughts and fantasies. That people would be horrified to admit, let alone enact_

They sit in silence for a moment. Hermione lights the fire. Adds some logs with a wave of her wand. Thinks about getting up for the coffee and…

Oh.

She turns to Narcissa. “Your thoughts have stopped.”

Narcissa lets out a breath. “Thank Salazar. I don’t know how you stand it, having me listen in. I have never been on the receiving end before. Not even Bella could—”

Hermione feels her heart sink. And then begin to patter. Her arm tingles with a phantom…

_Oh I am sorry, darling. I don’t know what is the matter with me. I shouldn’t have—_

Hermione’s thoughts drift back to Narcissa’s memories. Those flashes of her and her sisters. So young. Andy and Bellatrix so similar that it had been hard to tell them apart.

She takes Narcissa’s hand. “You miss her, don’t you?”

Narcissa’s eyebrows shoot up her forehead, eyes wide. “I—”

Hermione shakes her head. “I’m fine. She’s your sister. She wasn’t always— it’s okay to mention her. So. She couldn’t look into your head?”

Narcissa wets her lips. “No…” she says, cautiously. “No one has ever been able to read my thoughts, as far as I am aware. Natural occlumency. She— she could use legilimency on everyone except me. It drove her mad— I mean—”

She sighs. “I appreciate the gesture, Hermione. She is the…elephant in the room, as the muggles say. But I think it best if we speak of other things.”

Hermione can’t help but laugh. As the muggles say. How sweet.

Narcissa folds her arms. _You are the one who— is that not the expression?_

Hermione smiles at her. “You said it perfectly. I just wasn’t expecting— oh! Oh I have a muggle kitchen! Did you use it? How on earth did you—”

Narcissa shrugs. “I didn’t. I thought about it…but did not want to start a fire or— and how have muggles accomplished cooling charms? I thought…electricity…was hot. Not cold. Used for light and— what do you mean you don’t know? How do you not know how—”

Hermione holds up a hand, still trying to keep up with— she just has never really looked into how refrigeration works! It’s not like— and she’s had other things to learn about that aren’t—

Narcissa smirks. “I see. So I am not the only one in need of muggle classes.”

What?! Hermione’s mouth falls open in outrage. “I don’t need muggle classes! My parents are— I’m— do you know how cooling charms work?”

Narcissa continues to look smug. “Yes. I learnt in my fourth year, if I recall. It is a modification of the air—”

Hermione leans over and presses a hand to Narcissa’s mouth. “I know, I know. A partial transfiguration of— that isn’t what I…”

She’s done it again. Why is it some kind of reflex to put her hand…

_You are…thinking rather loudly again_

What? What’s she thinking?

Oh no. Oh but she thinks she can guess. If her subconscious made her touch Narcissa, then—

Narcissa slowly pulls her hand away…

And kisses her wrist. Then looks up at her. Her eyes are so captivating and…

Narcissa pulls on her hand, and Hermione follows. Leans even closer.

Narcissa whimpers. And then clears her throat embarrassedly. “Apologies. Your thoughts are…you may not intend it but…do you?”

Does she what?

Narcissa closes the distance between them. “If not…tell me to stop,” she murmurs, and softly brushes her lips to Hermione’s. Teasing. Sending shivers down Hermione’s spine.

Hermione presses closer. She definitely is not stopping this. _Tell me. Tell me what I want. What I’m thinking_

Narcissa’s lips part with a gasp, and Hermione feels hands across her shoulders, moving up to tug at her hair and—

_You…you want me. Beneath you. You want to remove my clothes and— but also you cannot decide if—_

And suddenly Hermione finds herself falling flat on her back on the sofa as Narcissa lunges forwards and shoves her down. Not gently. Just pushes her down. How is she so strong? How is—

All thoughts fly out of Hermione’s head as lips descend on her neck. Hot. Brushing over— oh, there!

Hermione squirms, stretching her neck back to give Narcissa more room, heat spreading quickly though her and— you have Narcissa crouched over you! Touch her, for the love of Merlin!

She threads her fingers into Narcissa’s hair and pulls her closer. Soft, silky hair and— and she wants—

She pulls Narcissa away instead. Brings their lips together and sucks at her lip and— and she can feel her leg falling off the sofa— _Narcissa? My bedroom is—_

Narcissa ignores her. Or can’t hear her. Continues kissing her hungrily until Hermione is way too lightheaded to think, let alone stand up. She does manage to brush her hands over Narcissa though. Finds the zip at the back of her dress. _Can I?_

_Yes. Yes and sit up so I can reach yours_

So Narcissa _can_ hear her. Is she really too impatient to walk upstairs to—

_Something always interrupts us. Not his time. I am not taking my mouth off of you for a second, darling, except when breathing becomes absolutely necessary. Now sit up. I want to undress you_

Oh shit. Fuck, Narcissa always has exactly the right words to make her hot and— so desperate to—

She shifts to sit up, very close to falling off the—

Narcissa grabs her hip to stop her rolling sideways. Kneels and shuffles back with a resigned sigh. Hermione stares up at her. In awe of her reddened lips and tousled hair. Dark eyes and…

Narcissa waves her wand at herself. Her dress floats up over her head and off. Leaving her in just her underwear. Just kneeling there in her living room and…

Hermione sits up. Flicks her wand at the floo to lock it. No interruptions. Not tonight.

She raises her arms. “Take off my dress.” She doesn’t know that spell. She should really learn it.

Narcissa smiles at her. Puts her wand down on the coffee table and stands up. Pulls Hermione to her feet and reaches around her. Slowly pulls the zip down. Tugs at Hermione’s dress until it falls to pool on the floor.

And stares at her. With those intense blue eyes. Eyes that see through to her soul and leave her trembling. Eyes that trail over her whole body, agonisingly slowly.

Hermione looks away to the side. Narcissa pulls her by the chin to face her again. Bites her lip shyly and sighs. _Fine. You win_

Hermione frowns. Win? Win what?

Narcissa smiles. Leans in to whisper in her ear. “You win. You have seduced me, Miss Granger.”

Hermione laughs. Strokes her hands over Narcissa’s waist and feels her shiver. “Really? You didn’t seduce me?”

Narcissa tuts. And then bites her ear. Ow!

Hermione jerks back. That hurt! Competitive, bitey, slytherin—

Narcissa grins. _You like it when I bite back. Perhaps we can call it a draw. Mutual seducing_

And she takes Hermione’s hand. Leads her upstairs.

 _I think the word you’re looking for is seduction_ Hermione jokes.

Narcissa chuckles. _Oh yes. How foolish of me. Now, come along, Miss Granger. I believe it is high time I made love to you. I, for one, have been thinking about it all week_

Hermione almost trips over in shock, but manages to follow along after Narcissa. Led into her own bedroom. All week? So when Hermione was—

Narcissa sits down on the bed and pulls Hermione onto her lap, leaning to nibble at her ear. “When Podsley first suggested you get me into bed…I saw what you imagined. I liked what I saw. I sent you a book…as an excuse to speak with you again. See you again.”

Oh. Oh! Teeth scrape down her neck. Hermione clutches at Narcissa’s back and her hips jolt, thighs clench.

“When you visited Miss Weasley at the hospital, I once again heard your thoughts. From my office. Heard you reading the book I sent you. And deliberately came to see you again.”

And Hermione lets out an embarrassing squeak as Narcissa falls onto her back on the bed, pulling her on top of her.

Hermione throws out her hands to brace herself before their heads collide. Gasps as Narcissa’s lips find her neck once more.

_And when we last lay in this bed. When I lay next to you, desperate for sleep, you once again imagined making love to me. Fucking me. You imagined my legs wrapped around you. Like this_

Narcissa’s legs wrap around her waist. Squeeze. Fuck. That’s— yes. That is what— she’d imagined rolling on top of Narcissa and—

But she wants—

She leans back, and pulls Narcissa further up the bed. Higher. So she can reach to kiss her. Her lips, and her neck, and her chest.

She peppers kisses down a flushed chest as Narcissa throws her head back and groans. Hermione can’t believe this is happening. _You’re so beautiful, Narcissa._

Her mouth runs out of skin, bra in the way. She wants more. She wants— _Can I—_

Narcissa arches her back. _Take it off. Do exactly what you are imagining with your mouth, for the love of Merlin_

Imagining? Oh.

She undoes Narcissa’s bra, pulls it off of her arms, immediately sucking a nipple into her mouth and then grazing it with her teeth. Narcissa moans. “Yes. Yes, I—”

Fingernails scrape down Hermione’s back. They feel sharp. She hopes they’re not long because—

Narcissa chuckles. _Short nails. Not my first time, darling. Now don’t stop_

Hermione feels her face heat up in slight embarrassment. And can’t help wondering who Narcissa has slept with. The wizarding world is not very big. The list of candidates is—

Narcissa pushes her off with a yell. “Skeeter?! Why did you even consider— Hermione, why did—”

Shit. It was just a passing thought! They’re the same age, ish. What if Narcissa was angry with her because—

Narcissa sits up with a groan. “I cannot believe I am having to say this, especially right at this moment. But no. I have never had sexual relations with _Rita Skeeter._ Have you?”

What?! Hermione shudders. “No! Why did— and I didn’t mean it! It was just a stray thought! Like you said! And she was the only other slytherin that came to mind that would have been at Hogwarts with you, other than…Umbridge, eww.”

Narcissa growls. “Stop talking!”

And pulls Hermione down beneath her. Kisses her angrily and— _Don’t think about anyone except me_

She bites Hermione’s lip. Reaches under her and undoes her bra. Tugs it off and throws it across the room. All whilst kissing her. Pressing against her and— and—

Hermione can feel a hand sliding down her stomach. She lies back and spreads her legs. _Yes, Narcissa. Gods, Narcissa, touch me._

Fingers dance over her thighs. _Already? I was going to tease you. Map out your body. Make you wait. But I don’t think I want to wait anymore_

Yes. No, no teasing. Just a firm hand right there, right now, because the ache is killing her and she’s throbbing at just the thought of—

Narcissa just vanished Hermione’s underwear. Just—

Hermione stares up into blue eyes. Feels nimble fingers spread her open, swipe between her legs. Her hips buck, and she whines. _Narcissa. Please. Please. Oh you look so beautiful. That feels so— yes, yes, I want—_

Narcissa’s fingers seem to know exactly where to go. And maybe they do. Maybe Hermione’s mind is shouting exactly what she wants. Because it has never felt so perf— Oh it’s—

She reaches up and pulls Narcissa towards her by the back of her neck. Kisses her breathlessly. _Yes. Yes, don’t stop. Harder, Narcissa_

_Do you like that, darling? You feel wonderful. Sound— I want to taste you. But I think I shall do that later. For now I think I will just take you. I want—_

Hermione begins thrusting her hips as fingers press inside of her roughly and quickly. Faster and— harder. So good so— fuck. Fuck she—

She wrenches her lips away. Unable to breathe. Gasps into the bedsheets. “Narcissa! Yes— I— don’t stop. Deeper— yes! Oh gods—”

She wants to look at Narcissa, but she can’t even keep her eyes open as the pleasure builds. Can’t do anything but clench her hands in the sheets and make incoherent noises. So close. So—

A wet mouth descends on her chest. Sucks at her. Bites and _—_

_Narcissa—oh— god— fuck I— yes yes yes_

She feels the pad of a thumb rub against her, fingers curl deeper, and just grinds her hips frantically. Wrenches her eyes open. She has to see Narcissa. Wants to look at her. Wants to—

Narcissa presses one last kiss to her chest and sits up. Stares down at her as if transfixed, even as the pace between Hermione's legs gets faster and pushes her into the mattress. _Oh. Oh Hermione you— Salazar you’re so beautiful. You look— you feel—_

_Narcissa. Narcissa, Narcissa, Narciss— faster faster yes it—ah!_

Hermione cries out, almost sobbing as she chases that peak and finally reaches it. Her whole body vibrating as she shudders, eyes falling shut and mouth open.

She gasps for breath. She can’t breathe— she can’t — her thighs are trembling.

Her whole body melts back into the mattress. She feels Narcissa shift. A kiss pressed to her stomach.

Shit. Shit that was—

She feels so heavy. Drowsy. No, no don’t sleep. Open your eyes. You have an angel in your bed don’t—

She tries to sit up. Narcissa pushes her back down. Lies down on top of her. _The angel is not going anywhere. And is actually very tired herself. Rest, darling_

No…no she…

But…her eyes are…maybe a few seconds…

Just…she’s so warm and…

Slips off to sleep.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey folks, I'm back! Bit of a long break there, but here's some more of the story. I hope you're all having a lovely Christmas/holiday/weekend.
> 
> And you'd better watch out...because there's some more smut coming your way at the beginning of this chapter.
> 
> Well. Hermione did leave things...half finished.

Hermione wakes up to someone shaking her, and Ron shouting at her.

…Ron? Is she still asleep? She’s pretty sure she hasn’t woken up next to Ron in a _very_ long time and—

_I am not Ronald Weasley. Wake up. We have a problem_

Hermione sits up with a start. Narcissa! No! She fell asleep?! Why would she— she had Narcissa naked and moaning in her bed and she didn’t even—

Oh. Shit. A patronus. A terrier.

Narcissa lies back down next to her with a groan, pulling the sheets over herself and closing her eyes. “He’s been yapping for the past ten minutes. He heard about the paint incident, and wants to know if you are alright. But the floo is locked. He can’t understand why Mr Potter and his sister are not worried for you. They of course cannot tell him, or do not wish to tell him, of our date this evening and the high probability that I am still here.”

Hermione rubs at her face. Great. That makes sense. Guess she’d be worried too if—it is a bit suspicious that her floo is suddenly locked. She never shuts her floo— ah!

She jumps, looking around for her wand in the dim lamplight as a flapping, screeching sound in the—

_There is an owl also. I haven’t the faintest idea how it gained access to— it is unbelievably old and dim-witted_

Errol.

Okay. Think. What can she tell Ron?

 _To leave you and the witch in your bed in peace, as it is the middle of the night?_ Narcissa grumbles.

Oh.

Hermione lies down. Shifts back under the covers too. She can’t believe…

She kisses Narcissa’s frowning forehead and then reaches for her wand, which is somehow on the bed. She can’t for the life of her remember how it got there. “Sorry. I’ll do that. Expecto patronum!”

The terrier barks happily at her otter, and then disappears, job accomplished. Hermione clears her throat. “ _Ron. Thanks for checking in on me, but I’m fine. Really. And in bed. So I’ll owl you tomorrow when—”_

Narcissa rolls closer and kisses her neck. Bites at her collarbone and smirks up at her. Hermione gasps. Shit.

“ _—when I— when I don’t—Narcissa, stop that! Oh shit! Don’t send—”_

The otter flies away. Sent. Fuck. Why did—

She throws her wand down with a groan. “Narcissa! Oh Merlin, no! Why did— oh that’s so embarrassing, he’s going to think—”

Narcissa grins. “That you are in bed with me. Which you are.”

Hmm. Narcissa is far too happy about this. Is it because it was Ron? Is she jealous of—

Narcissa rolls away with a huff. Gets out of bed. “Please. As if I would be jealous of that moping man-child. Ridiculous.”

Hermione just stares as an almost completely naked Narcissa walks over and opens the bedroom window. Lets a gust of cold air in, and hovers a hooting owl out.

Is that Hermione’s wand?

Narcissa freezes. _Apologies. I should have asked but…mine is still in the living room. Here_

She crawls back onto the bed and hands Hermione back her wand.

Hermione doesn’t even notice. Lets it fall back onto the bed. Kisses Narcissa instead and pulls her closer. She needs her hands for other things. For— _You’re not still tired, are you?_

_…cold…warm...soft…touch…taste…need…oh…thoughts…hide…block…shield…no…warm…Hermione…touch…bite…lick…no…hide…fuck…hot…need…_

_Narcissa, your thoughts are—_

_…leave…stay…warm…Hermione…aching…_

_I know. I cannot stop them but— just— keep kissing me. Touch me_

_…Hermione…need…want…surrender…feel…bite…wet…hot…_

Hermione tries to stay focused. The two threads of thoughts in her head are making it difficult to concentrate. Hearing Narcissa say all of those things, and at the same time feeling a hot tongue press into her mouth and a cold body on top of—

Narcissa is cold. Well, she can’t have that.

She flips them over. Lies down on top of Narcissa and pushes her leg between—

_…fuck…yes…ache…harder…hot…grab…bite…feel…can’t breathe…take me…fuck me…want want want—_

Holy fucking— okay. Narcissa can’t breathe.

Hermione wrenches her lips away and bites Narcissa’s neck instead. She’d thought something about biting.

And Hermione just wants to touch her everywhere. Taste her everywhere. Strays downward over Narcissa’s chest leaving kisses and bites and—

_Bite back…can’t reach…want touch…taste...yes…fuck…hot…harder…haven’t…waited…too slow…faster…now…want...ache—_

_Hermione, stop teasing me and—_

Hermione tugs Narcissa’s underwear off and kneels between her legs. Pushes her up the bed and…

Stops to look at her. The naked witch in her bed. Fuck. Narcissa. Hermione could stare all night if—

_Don’t you dare. Don’t you leave me waiting one more second, Miss Granger_

Hermione chuckles as Narcissa glares at her. But does as she’s told. Narcissa doesn’t like to be kept waiting.

She spreads pale legs, and lies on her stomach, leaning in and pressing her mouth between Narcissa’s thighs.

Narcissa sighs. _Oh Hermione, darling, yes_

A shudder travels through Hermione, and she pulls Narcissa closer. Gods, legilimency is amazing. _Tell me what you want, Narcissa. Like this?_

And she moves her tongue slowly and firmly. Tastes her. Feels her pulsing—

_Yes, yes that’s— no, faster. I want— I— higher and— oh_

Hands pull at her hair. Hermione moves faster. Flicks her tongue. Narcissa gasps. “Ye— yes. Keep—” She groans. “Gods.”

She tries some different patterns. Drags her lips across different spots and listens to Narcissa gasp. But rough and fast with her tongue seems to be the—

Hips grind and thrust against her mouth and Narcissa whines. _Right there, right there, need— more Hermione. Fingers. So— cl— fuck—_

She breaks off with a moan. Spreads her legs even further. Hermione breaks away just for a moment to readjust. Presses her fingers inside Narcissa and then hurriedly moves her mouth back. Figures out the right angle and thrusts—

_…fuck...hard…wet…rough…pound…take…more…harder…hot…full…Hermione…yes…fuck…again…again…_

_Yes, Hermione, please!_

Hermione moans. The thoughts are back. And the thoughts are—

_Fuck me…fuck me…take me…fill me…bite me…hot…hot…nearly…wet…so wet…oh!_

_“_ Oh it’s— I— fa— fast— ah—” _Harder, Hermione I’m—_

Hermione thrusts into Narcissa as hard and fast as she can. Bites her thigh and then sucks—

Narcissa bucks off the bed with a strangled cry. Clenches around her fingers and flutters. Collapses back down with panting gasps.

Hermione keeps slowly moving her fingers. Presses against her firmly. Feels her twitch and slowly relax.

Kisses her thigh and moves away. Crawls up Narcissa’s body to look at her. To look at how…

How beautiful she looks. And so hot. Just flushed and breathless, with blonde hair everywhere. Hermione kisses her. Nibbles at her lip teasingly. Beautiful. Wonderful witch. In her bed. In…

Narcissa chuckles, eyes still shut. Pulls away. _Let me catch my breath, darling. Let me…I should like nothing more than to pleasure you, but I fear my body is not up to it quite yet_

Oh. Right. Narcissa is probably exhausted. She needs to sleep. She never caught up and— well Narcissa can sleep for the whole weekend if she wants. Hermione will just stay with her and try to be quiet. Let her rest.

Narcissa opens her eyes. Stares up at her and slowly shakes her head. She seems surprised, or…

Narcissa reaches up and gently coaxes Hermione down. To lie next to her. Rolls on her side to face her. Hermione pulls the bedding up over them again and then copies her. For a moment they just look at each other, sheets tucked up under their chins. Warm and comfortable. The sound of their breathing slowing.

Narcissa swallows. _I…_

The thought drifts away. Unfinished. Hmm. Is she okay with this? Is this too…intimate?

_That is…almost correct, I suppose. I was just thinking that…I really should get some sleep, and for that I…well I— I was hoping you wouldn’t be offended if I need some space. My own side of the bed. It doesn’t mean anything, it’s merely—_

Hermione huffs out a quiet laugh. “Narcissa, that’s fine. No cuddling, got it. You need to sleep properly. Maybe some rem sleep will sort your head out. We can look into that tomorrow, if you want? Legilimency problems?”

Narcissa closes her eyes. “That would be helpful, yes. If you have the time.” She yawns. “Oh dear. Yes, definitely time for bed. Goodnight. Oh.”

Narcissa’s eyes wrench open, and she leans closer to blearily kiss Hermione’s cheek, before moving back to her side and wriggling under the covers. “There. Goodnight.”

Adorable.

Hermione turns off the lamp and closes her eyes. “Goodnight, Narcissa.”

* * *

Hermione dozes for as long as she can the next morning, desperately trying to keep her brain quiet for Narcissa, who as far as she can tell is still fast asleep every time Hermione opens her eyes.

And very cuddly, despite what Narcissa said last night. The other witch is obviously the instigator, because Narcissa always seems to end up on top.

She’s not sure what that says about their relationship.

Anyway, she sleeps for as long as she can, but after a while her stomach is grumbling too much to be ignored, and she really wants a shower, so she just gets up and ready for the day, trying to keep her thoughts sleepy.

And it seems to work. It’s midday, and Narcissa is still asleep.

Until she isn’t.

_Noon already? What on Earth— Saturday! Wasting a Saturday with— why did you not wake me? And where is my—_

Hermione chuckles to herself at the sleepy and yet very grumpy voice in her head. Sips at her tea, eyes straying to the wand still sat on the coffee table.

_Still in the living room? And I suppose my clothes are there also. Midday and not even dressed. Never have I— I have research. And letters to write. If Ms Skeeter is to be taken down, then there is no time for sleeping—_

_“_ —and I had thought you were serious about aiding my research. About investigating our legilimency issues?” Narcissa continues, walking into the room wearing Hermione’s dressing gown and presumably nothing else. Picks her wand up off the coffee table and her dress from last night off the floor, and walks straight into the floo.

“Hey!” Hermione shouts as the fire turns green. “Where are you—”

And Narcissa is gone.

…what?

Bye, then. Thanks for the sleep. And the sex. And the—

The fire turns green again, and Narcissa is back. Dressed.

…How did she get dressed so fast? Is there a spell for that? How did—

Narcissa sits down next to her. “Apologies. Usually, I am not so…unthinking, in the morning, but I do not think I have slept that well in a very long time. It appears my mind was not yet fully functioning.”

She leans in and presses a kiss to Hermione’s cheek. “Good morning. Thank you for being so quiet, and patient with me. For allowing me to stay, and sleep.”

Oh. Well then. Guess she’s forgiven. “Good afternoon, actually,” Hermione smiles. “And I’m glad you finally got some sleep. It must be awful! I can’t even imagine— are you hungry? Do you want some breakfast? Or lunch?”

Narcissa smiles back. “I am rather hungry, yes. But you just stay here. Get some work done. I know you’ve been avoiding thinking too strenuously for my sake, your subconscious is restless. I’m sure I can find something to eat and begin writing some correspondents whilst you work. And then we can have a look into the legilimency sometime this afternoon. How does that sound?”

That does sound good. She has rather a lot of work to get through before Monday, and the scrolls are piling up. As much as she wants to spend the day with Narcissa, and even get some revenge on Skeeter, her work has suffered a bit lately. Her job is just so full on and—

Narcissa kisses her. _Work first, Darling. Do not let me distract you_

Well that’s impossible. How could Hermione not be distracted. Especially now that—

Hermione falls forwards as Narcissa pulls back and walks away.

“Goblins. Centaurs. Merfolk. House-elves. Chop chop,” Narcissa calls out behind her as she leaves the room.

Right. Yes. AGM. Diplomacy between all races. New regulations and changing levels of control within the Ministry. Even the seating is giving her problems. And finding a neutral venue. Definitely not the Ministry. Hogwarts? The grounds? Still very wizard central. Stonehenge? Hmm…she needs to make a list. Dining table it is. She needs space to lay out some…

* * *

Hermione feels arms go around her neck from behind, and looks up from the parchment. Oh. It’s dark. How long has she been sat here? She _has_ written a few dozen feet of notes, and there are a lot of teacups surrounding her…

She turns her head sideways and kisses Narcissa’s cheek. _Thanks for interrupting me. Sometimes once I get going time just disappears…_

Narcissa chuckles. _Your brain actually hums it’s so fast. Whirs. A murmured buzz with the occasional shout when you think of a particularly clever solution. Would you…like to begin some legilimency? Perhaps in the living room, in case we fall unconscious. Or the bedroom…_

Oh, how exciting! Yes!

She turns around with a grin. “Maybe not the bedroom. Too distracting. But yes, let’s go, if you want to? I feel so terrible for you, not being able to sleep. Not being in control of your legilimency. Let’s try to sort this out.”

She follows Narcissa into the living room. They sit down on the sofa, and Narcissa turns to face her. Oh. The same place as last night. The same…

Narcissa clears her throat, and accios an armchair over to rest in front of the sofa. Sits there instead. “Perhaps this shall be better. Keep our libidos in check,” she says, shaking her head in exasperation. Oops. Were her thoughts shouting again?

Narcissa licks her lips. “No. But mine were. Now, are we ready to pay attention? Mind magic is all about control. Discipline. We have to— I know it is difficult, but we must remain professional. Serious. In fact, I shall be recording this for my research. Placing the memory in a pensieve. Are you ready to begin, Miss Granger?”

Okay. Professional. Research. “Yes. Yes, I’m ready when you are.”

Narcissa nods. “Alright. The time is…six forty-five pm. As can be seen from the given memory, I am sat with Miss Hermione Granger in her living room, and at this point in time I am able to hear what I shall refer to as her foremost thoughts, a term coined by Mabel Martingale, Nineteen eighty-two. I am unable to ‘close’ or lower the volume of this channel of thought, and Miss Granger is not, as far as we can tell, projecting these thoughts. If she is, then she is unaware of this ability. These thoughts are reflexive, rather than a means of communication with myself. Those thoughts would be termed communicative or vocalised thoughts. On occasion, I am also privy to her base, subconscious thoughts, and these are usually louder in volume. I shall inform the listener if this should occur, for future reference and study. For now, I should like to begin by entering Miss Granger’s mind, and searching for any inconsistencies, anomalies, or unexpected constructions. Do you consent to this, Miss Granger?”

Fascinating. Oh this is— “Yes. Yes, I consent, Ms Black.”

Narcissa raises her wand. And then lowers it. She frowns slightly, and twitches. Takes a sharp breath. _Apologies._ “Subconscious thoughts of a…sexual nature have now arisen, projected from Miss Granger to myself at a volume of…around 70 decibels, which is to say speaking loudly but not yet shouting.”

Oh no. Oh no why now? Why during the study? Why—

“And her foremost thoughts have also risen in volume, I believe due to embarrassment and panic. In order to continue this study, these thoughts shall of course be noted, but ignored in favour of further investigation.”

Narcissa raises her wand again. Looks Hermione firmly in the eye. “Legilimens.”

* * *

Hermione doesn’t feel Narcissa enter her mind. Not at all. So that’s unexpected. She’d thought it would feel uncomfortable. Intrusive. But…

Oh. She’s suddenly not in her living room. She’s sat in a forest, leaning against a tree.

_You are anxious, I believe. Do you recognise this place? It sprang to mind, and I did not halt your creation. A time of stress and uncertainty_

Hmm, that makes sense. When she was on the run. All of the forests they had to camp out in. Running out of food, and unsure where to go. Nothing was certain. No security.

Narcissa hums in her head. _This should not be a frightening experience. I will not test you, or trick you. Perhaps imagine somewhere that you feel safe. Take us there_

Safe? Well that’s easy.

The Gryffindor Common Room. All of those nights in front of the fire. The parts of her childhood and adolescence that were warm. Full of laughter. A sense of belonging.

She sits down in front of the fire, and realises that she has a body.

_Another construction. That is why you look so young. You’re wearing school robes_

Oh. Well she doesn’t want to go _that_ far. She’s definitely more sure of herself now than she was at school.

She imagines herself now. What she was wearing today. That’s better.

_Good. Now close your eyes. We need your thoughts, not your memories. Close your eyes…and try to deliberately talk to me. Find my consciousness within you_

Hermione does as she’s told. Closes her eyes…and thinks about Narcissa. Breathes slowly and calmly. Thinks about Narcissa’s voice, and what it feels like when her voice whispers into her head. Remembers the book she gave her about mind magic—

And suddenly is at St Mungo’s.

Oh dear. Sat with Harry and Ginny, and reading said book on Ginny’s hospital bed. Back in a memory. Except…

She can hear Narcissa. She can hear—

_...Ah. The Weasleys have left. Should she go to her? Just go. It is only Mr Potter and Miss Weasley. This is your chance to speak with her and…_

Narcissa in the past? How is that possible? How is she hearing—

_…so she is reading it. And seems to have a firm grasp of the concept. How frustrating that the witch’s thoughts are still so loud! Why? Not sleeping is bad enough. Why must she now…_

Is Hermione in Narcissa’s head now? She can’t be. She’s inside the hospital room with Ginny, watching herself sit in the bed with them. Narcissa isn’t even here! She’s going to walk in…now!

“—And you have not yet finished it, have you, Miss Granger?” Narcissa smirks from the doorway… _Not that Narcissa expected Miss Granger to finish the book in one morning. It is extremely impressive that she has already understood such a range of complicated theories, and begun to put them into practice…_

Really?! Well would it have killed Narcissa to tell her that? Why didn’t she…

Umm…where is the current Narcissa? If this is the past, then…where’s present-day Narcissa gone?

Hermione closes her eyes. _Narcissa? Where are you? Are you still here, or have you left?_

No reply.

And when Hermione opens her eyes…she finds herself in her childhood bedroom. A girl is sat on her bed. A blonde girl.

Oh no.


	17. Chapter 17

Hermione stares at the…thirteen? ...year old girl sat on her bed. Well, not her bed. Not anymore. This is her old room at her parents’ house. From when she was around thirteen too.

That does look like Narcissa, just younger. How is…well this isn’t a memory, it can’t be, so…

The girl folds her arms and glares at Hermione. “Of course this isn’t a memory, imbecile. Why would I ever come here? What have you done? I’m not supposed to be here.”

Shit. This Narcissa is kind of intimidating. After all Hermione has been through, she probably shouldn’t be scared of a teenage girl, but there is still this lingering fear, buried away. The beautiful, popular girl, looking down her nose at her in disgust.

The girl stands up. “Good. You should be scared. Get me out of your horrible room. Now! I should be getting ready for the ball. Mother is finally allowing me to attend, and I shan’t let some mudblood stop me from—”

Hermione grits her teeth at the word…and then frowns. Wait. Why would Narcissa say that? She told Hermione that she never hated muggles. She was just frightened of them. Of muggle technology and—

The girl scowls and stomps towards her. Points in her face. “I am not scared! I am not! All of your muggle belongings are disgusting and— and I need to leave! I need to— you have to let me leave, and go back home. To my sisters and—”

She grabs Hermione’s shoulders and shakes her. Ah! She’s real?! She can touch her?!

Blue eyes stare into Hermione’s. “I’m real! I’m right here! Can’t you see me? Why are you doing this? Why am I stuck here I— I want to be free. If I go to the ball…perhaps I will hear something that will help. A kind word, some advice, or— or anything that will—”

The girl backs away and sits down on the bed. Curls her knees up and hides her face.

Narcissa. It’s Narcissa. Not just a girl.

Okay.

Hermione walks over and sits down next to her. “I’m not sure why you’re here, but I’m not trapping you. You can leave whenever you want. But if you’d like to talk, I can listen. We can stay here for a little bit. Just us. And think of a plan. Of what you want to do next.”

Narcissa looks up. Not at Hermione, though. Looks away across the room. “Mother says I shouldn’t speak to people like you. That you’re a beastly animal. That I shall meet a nice young wizard at the ball, and that if I am a polite young witch, then he may choose me to be his wife someday. A pureblood family of course. One of the sacred twenty-eight.”,

Hermione slowly reaches for the girl’s hand. “And what do you think?”

Narcissa flinches away, eyes darting to Hermione’s and widening. “It doesn’t matter what I think. Mother knows best. And father. I must follow their guidance and— and they will keep me safe. Ensure that I have a— a prosperous marriage, and—and continue the family…well, not the family name. I won’t be a Black anymore. Bella isn’t. She’s a _Lestrange_. How awful. I’d hate to have that na— I— I mean—”

Hermione just smiles softly as this young Narcissa panics. “And if you didn’t have to get married? If there weren’t any rules? If I wasn’t a beast? What would you do?”

Narcissa looks at her. And then slowly lies down on the bed. Kicks off her shoes and puts her arms behind her head. Stares at the ceiling. “You mean it, don’t you? You really want to know. To know what I think. My wishes. To know my dreams. I don’t think anyone’s wanted to know my dreams before. Not really.”

Oh. Is that true? That’s so sad. Hermione’s family was always asking her what she thought when she was young. Asking what she liked and disliked. What her favourite film or book or food was.

Hermione lies down next to Narcissa. “Well I’d like to know. You can tell me. I won’t tell anyone.”

Narcissa turns sideways to look at her. Smiles shyly. “Alright. I believe you. I suppose…gosh. I’ve never thought about what I wanted before. Only what I’m _supposed_ to want.”

Really? Narcissa always seems so sure of herself. Even now, she has this…presence. Takes command of the room. As if she owns it.

Even if she’s a kid. Just a kid.

Hermione turns further sideways. “What food don’t you like? That you have to pretend to like? And what’s your favourite pudding?”

The girl grins at her. Scoots closer to whisper. “I hate salad. It’s all I seem to eat in the summer. I feel like a rabbit. And I have to take small mouthfuls to be polite. It takes an age to finish a plate, and then an hour later I’m hungry again. Bella used to pass me cake under the table sometimes when I was younger. That was my favourite. Any kind of cake. I’d save it if I could. Wait until midnight, when everyone was gone. Asleep. No minds to listen to. I’d sit and look out of the window at the stars, and eat the cake that Bella gave me.”

Oh. Bellatrix? That’s so…kind. Thoughtful. And against the rules. Hiding it from everyone.

Narcissa rolls onto her back with a sigh. “Yes. Bella is kind. Or was. At least to me. She doesn’t do that anymore though. Too busy. And she thinks I need to grow up. Knows I need to play my part for the family now. I cannot be a child eating cake any longer. Wishing on stars and— and—”

The girl suddenly takes Hermione’s hand. Holds it tightly. “I need to get back now. Get ready. Mother found the perfect dress. Says I will be beautiful. I…I don’t know if I want to be beautiful. I don’t— I don’t want any of the wizards to look at me. To stare at me. To think—”

She curls sideways again to whisper to Hermione. “Sometimes, I should like to be invisible. Or just…frightfully ugly. Yes. So ugly that no one would dare look at me. And if they did speak to me…it would be because of what I was saying. It would be because I was witty. Clever, or funny. It is not often that people think that of me. Except…you do…sometimes. I like that.”

Hermione sits up. Frowns at Narcissa. “You know what, Miss Black?”

Narcissa sits up. Frowns back.

Hermione shakes her head. “I’m sorry. But you really are ugly. Hideous. The ugliest witch I have ever seen. I can’t believe no one’s ever told you.”

And the girl bursts out laughing. “Oh Hermione!”

She whacks Hermione on the arm. “Stop that! I thought you were going to say something horrible! You beastly— Mother was right about you. Muggleborns are just ghastly,” she smiles. “Horrible beasts. Selfish. And rude. And greedy, and—”

Hermione just laughs as Narcissa picks up a pillow and starts hitting her with it.

She grabs the other one and fights back. “It’s true, Narcissa. I might go blind if I have to look at you for one more second!”

Narcissa squeals and jumps off the bed. “Stop! That’s not fair, you’re taller than me. Older. You’re so old. You’re— you’re a wrinkly old witch! I can see a grey hair!”

What?! She doesn’t—

Hermione runs over to look in the mirror, and Narcissa bursts into giggles. Hermione watches in the mirror. Watches her laugh and hug the pillow. Stumble over to Hermione and grin widely. “Oh your face! You fell for it! Of course you don’t have grey hair, don’t be silly.”

Well that’s a relief.

Hermione turns around to face Narcissa. Bends down to look her in the eye. “And you’re not ugly. But you are still very young. You’re allowed to eat cake. To laugh, and play, and make wishes on stars. To have dreams. You can do anything you put your mind to. Believe me. You do.”

Narcissa tucks some hair behind her ears and bites her lip shyly. “Thank you. And I don’t think you’re a beast. Not really. You’re very…kind. And pretty. I think that would be my wish, if I could make one. If there were no rules. I’d like you to come to the ball too, instead of all those boring wizards. I’d like to dance with you.”

Hermione sighs. Closes her eyes. Shakes her head. She wishes she could make that wish come true. But this isn’t real. Narcissa already went to her ball. All those years ago.

She opens her eyes…and is back in the Gryffindor Common Room. What?

_Hermione? Can you hear me?_

Narcissa. She’s back. Her Narcissa. _Yes, I can hear you, Narcissa_

_Oh thank Merlin. What just happened? Where did you go? You entered a memory but…I couldn’t access it! Your mind locked me out, I don’t understand. A memory…and then some kind of constructed…well I don’t know. A half-memory. One fairly recent, and another…well, I’m not sure at all what that was. I’m going to take you out of here_

Locked out? But Narcissa was there! It just…wasn’t the right her. That is strange. Narcissa’s right, they should leave. It isn’t safe—

And the room blurs. Whirls around her and…

And Hermione screams as she finds herself flying through the air.

* * *

Literally flying. She’s on a broomstick, far above Hogwarts. Above the Quidditch Pitch. Oh no. No no she doesn’t know how to steer. Or land. Or—

An arm loops around her from behind and pulls her firmly against a warm body. “What are you doing here?!” Narcissa’s voice comes from behind her, shouting over the wind. “You’re not supposed to be here! How am I supposed to see with all of your hair— oh Salazar's snake!”

And Hermione ducks her head as a bludger speeds towards them. Narcissa reaches around her and grabs the end of the broom, pulling it sharply to the right, and then her left arm comes into view as she smacks the bludger away with a bat.

Beater. Oh this isn’t good.

“Just land!” Hermione yells. “This isn’t real. It’s a memory. Just land!”

But they’re already speeding away. In front of another player in Slytherin robes. And there’s the bludger again. For the love of—

Narcissa bats it away. “You’re not ruining the match for me. I’ve been practicing for weeks. I know everyone’s technique and strategy. I know just when— Mulciber, duck! Now!” she roars.

Mulciber, future Death Eater and general sadistic monster, quickly does as he’s told, and a bludger sails over his head. Huh.

Hermione leans forwards so that she’s lower down. And then sharply leans back up as the broom follows her. She just doesn’t understand it! How does speed even work on a broom? Do you lean or just…think it?

Either way, it is _terrifying_ , and there isn’t enough to hold onto and— oh she’s getting a bit lightheaded. “Narcissa, please just take us down. This isn’t the game. It already happened, years ago. We’re inside your memory or…I don’t even know if this is a memory or a construct you’ve created.”

Narcissa hits the next bludger at a Gryffindor chaser and then sighs. “It is a construct. A place where I feel free. In control. Far away from all of the usual unending rules and social navigations. Here, I have merely two goals. Protect my teammates, and stop our opponents in their tracks. And I am allowed to shout, and command. And even if I swear or curse, no one will know. No one can hear me. It is the one time that the rules are in my favour. You do not have to be a lady on a broom. Lucius and the others cannot hear me or fault me for it. Hold on tightly now.”

Oh. This is her safe place? Well, she supposes— hold on tight?! She’s already holding on— whoa!

Hermione closes her eyes and whimpers as the world spins. No no this is not natural. There should at least be a seatbelt, or some kind of net to catch her.

An arm wraps around her again. “I’ll catch you. Do not be frightened, Granger. I’m a good quidditch player. And an accomplished witch. You are safe with me. Trust me.”

Granger?

She turns around to look at Narcissa. So she’s young again. Sixteen, maybe?

This Narcissa rolls her eyes at her. “Fine. Hermione, happy? Just be glad I’m not calling you a mudblood. I’ll have to once we land. See? It’s far better up here.”

Hmm. Far above everything. Separate and safe from all the pressure and expectations.

She leans her back against Narcissa. “It must be nice. Only having two rules. Saying what you want. I do understand. I just wish it didn’t feel so unsettling. I feel like one wrong move and I’ll go tumbling to the ground.”

Both of Narcissa’s arms go around her now. And no more bludgers are coming their way. In fact, all the other players seem to be frozen. Paused.

“That is how I feel all the time as of late,” Narcissa whispers to her. “One wrong move, and down I’ll fall. You’re right. It’s terrifying.”

Hermione shakily lifts a hand off the broom, and strokes Narcissa’s arm. “Well it’s nicer now. Now that you’re holding me, and talking to me. Listening. Could you…show me how to do this? How to fly? I’m so awful at it. Everyone gets frustrated with me. And I get frustrated with myself for not—”

“— for not understanding something. The Know-it-All finally doesn’t know something.”

Hey! That’s not— she isn’t a Know-it-All! Not— not like she was when she was younger. That’s why she asked for advice. Because she wants to listen to Narcissa and—

Narcissa laughs. “I know. That is precisely what I meant. You are of course naturally intelligent, but you also prepare well. You’re studious. You read all of your textbooks before arriving in first year, did you not?”

Well, yes. Of course she did. If a book could teach you magic, why wouldn’t you read it?

Narcissa adjusts them on the broom. Moves them steadily around the pitch. “But you did not read about quidditch. It was the only class which you entered blindly, with only a few historical facts to cling to. You do not know how a broom moves or steers or how to position yourself.”

But she does! She had the lessons with Madam Hooch. She listened. She read the—

“As much as for charms? Transfiguration? Potions?”

Hmm. Well, no.

She feels a chin rest on her shoulder.

“And you don’t have to. You do not have to know and understand everything. Just know that I know. Put some faith in me, as I have done with you. Stay here with me. Just for a while. It is where I feel safe and free, but also alone. Can you see how lonely it is, far above it all? I should like to share my freedom with someone. With you. Let go of the fear, Hermione, so you can be happy here, with me.”

Oh.

Well…seeing as this isn’t real anyway, she’s already putting her trust in Narcissa. In her legilimency skills. She might even be inside Narcissa’s mind right now, rather than her own. It certainly feels like it. She definitely couldn’t imagine a quidditch game.

She calms her breathing. Lets herself relax. “Alright. I trust you. Do whatever you want, and if I fall…save me.”

“Really?” Narcissa says quietly. “You really trust me that much? I know how this scares you.”

Hermione nods. And then shakily fumbles her way around to face Narcissa. Manages to raise her leg over. Wobbles. Narcissa just holds onto her. Holds the broom still. Smiles at her.

There. That’s better. Looking at Narcissa instead of the ground and the dizzying view. 

Narcissa hooks her arms around Hermione’s neck. “You do trust me. How strange. You even…you don’t know where your wand is, but you decided to turn around anyway, just to look at me. And you thought that if you were to fall…I would catch you. Save you. You believe in me.”

Hermione shrugs. “That’s what I said. You asked me to trust you. Well here I am. Trusting you.”

Narcissa looks away. “That frightens me. That you trust me so much. You shouldn’t. I have no idea what I’m doing, not really. Not when I have my feet on the ground. When there are so many rules to follow and decisions to make.”

Oh. Here it is again. The confidence is gone…and the fear is revealed. Is that what this is about? Is Narcissa scared, and her mind is calling out for help?

Narcissa’s eyes widen. “Oh. No. No, that cannot be— you’re the one who’s scared. Not me. I’m not scared of brooms. Of flying.”

Hermione reaches out and strokes Narcissa’s cheek. “You’re scared of trust though. I’m vulnerable up here. You have to look after me. Make all of the decisions and be on alert for danger. Is that how you feel? That you’re endangering me? Frightening me with your mind?”

Narcissa leans closer. Blue eyes stare into Hermione’s. “I’ve taken away your freedom, Hermione. And my mind is not in control. It’s dangerous. You’re trusting me to do this and…I don’t want to hurt you.”

Oh. Oh Narcissa. It’s not her fault. She’s not dangerous. And she didn’t mean to…

Wait.

Hermione clears her throat. “Narcissa, how old are you?”

The girl frowns. “Seventeen. Why?”

Ah. She’d forgotten. This isn’t her Narcissa. This is Narcissa at seventeen. Scared of trusting someone. Of responsibility. Of losing control over her life. That’s the root fear, not Hermione.

Right. Okay. Hermione nods. “Narcissa, nobody can control everything. Nothing goes perfectly all the time. It’s impossible to always make the right decision. Nobody does. We just all do our best…and if we make a mistake, we try to fix it. Or ask for help. Or apologise. That’s all we can do. Nobody knows what they’re doing, no matter how old they are. It’s alright. And you don’t have to save me, because I’m not in danger. I’m safe. This is all in our minds.”

Narcissa doesn’t look too sure. “Just because something is in a mind doesn’t make it safe. Some of the scariest, most terrifying demons lie inside people’s minds. Far scarier than anything in the real world. Minds are fragile, but insistent. Complex. I do my best…but they still frighten me. Other people’s minds. My own mind. What they can make people do and believe.”

Inner demons. That is true. Understandable. And to be battling your own demons…as well as seeing everyone else’s?

Hermione wraps her arms around Narcissa and holds her tight. “You’re so brave, Narcissa. And you’re doing so well. Coping with everything. You have so much to cope with and—” she pulls back. “But this is your safe place. It’s alright. You’re free. Come on, don’t let me stop you. And…I do have a wand. It’s in my pocket. I can look after myself. Don’t worry about me. We can fight those demons later, together. But right now, enjoy the match. You’re a brilliant quidditch player. Fly.”

Hermione reaches into her pocket, praying that…yes! She does have her wand. Good.

She fumbles her way to turn around again. And then casts a sticking charm at herself. There. No falling off. Magic is amazing.

Narcissa laughs. “ _You’re_ amazing. And brave. I’ve never met anyone so brave. And so…”

Hermione feels an arm go around her waist again. And then lips press quickly to her cheek before pulling away.

“Apologies. Couldn’t resist. Now come on, Granger. Just enjoy it. There’s no falling. Only flying! Let’s go!”

And the game unfreezes as they fly through the sky. The wind whips past. There’s the sound of distant cheering. And Narcissa laughs as they block bludger after bludger and send Gryffindors ducking and diving. Whistling through the air. Free. Playing the game and winning.

* * *

Hermione isn’t sure when it happens, but the quidditch pitch just fades away, and she’s back in the Gryffindor Common Room. Sat in front of the fire.

 _Hermione! I’m so sorry I— I am trying to retrieve you, you must believe me_ Narcissa’s voice calls into her head panickedly.

Hermione smiles. _Narcissa, it’s alright. I’m fine. Don’t worry_

Worrying is probably the worst thing she can do. Hermione is pretty sure she’s figured out what is going on now. That’s two memories where Narcissa has been scared. Vulnerable.

_Oh. My memories? That’s where you were? In my head? How is that…but we’re in your head. Not mine. You…were dragged into my fears?_

No. Not her fears. Not really. She was just…in the right place for Narcissa to talk. To voice her fears and worries. Like a guardian angel or something.

_Oh dear. Oh how embarrassing. So I am the source of all this confusion. Calling out to you_

Apparently. So…it wasn’t Hermione that was shouting! Of course! Narcissa is the legilimens. She’s the one who controls the volume. Her brain just keeps…turning Hermione up to make Narcissa listen. How funny!

_It is not funny, Miss Granger! It is— I have been subconsciously begging you for— for I do not know what. Comfort? Companionship?_

Love?

Silence from Narcissa. And the room fades away. Oh dear. Off she goes again. Which Narcissa will it…

Oh.

Narcissa in a wedding dress.

At the Burrow.


	18. Chapter 18

It’s a summer evening. Dark but warm, even outside the back of the Burrow, in the Orchard. There’s enough light to see Narcissa. Moonlight, and the light shining through the kitchen window. Hermione can hear muffled conversations and laughter from inside the house.

Narcissa whirls to face her, wedding dress glowing white under the stars, and an enraged snarl on her face. “You! What have you done! Why am I here in this filthy pigsty and not— take me back at once!”

Again? Seriously?

Hermione just sighs and walks up to the other witch. “What happened, Narcissa? Are you okay?”

Narcissa sneers at her. “Don’t ask such stupid questions. It is perfectly obvious where I have been. Where I should be right now. And it is not here with bloodtraitors and filth like _you_.”

Hermione swallows a lump in her throat. This is…harder than she’d thought. She remembers this Narcissa. Well, not quite. This Narcissa is still very young. Early twenties. But to hear…Oh it just hurts. Hurts to hear. To remember. To see such a similar face, but hear such horrible slurs.

Narcissa smirks at her. “Get used to it. I don’t know with which version of me you have been speaking, but they sound weak and pathetic. Unworthy of their noble blood. That is what matters. Family. Tradition. Keeping the world as it is, with wizardkind safe from muggles and their quest to destroy the world with their careless greed. They do not understand balance. Harmony. Magic. They take more than they give, and leave the world in ruin. Selfish. Well, I won’t be selfish. I’ll do what must be done. What has to be done.”

And that’s when it hits her. Hits Hermione. Why Narcissa is in a wedding dress. Why they’re at the Burrow.

“…Because that’s what’s expected of you,” Hermione whispers. “What everyone expects of you. The path that…you’ve found yourself on, and that if you don’t think too hard, you can let yourself walk down. Down that aisle.”

Narcissa frowns at her in suspicion. And then slowly nods. “Yes. I’m about to walk down the aisle.”

Hermione shakes her head with a sad smile. Looks over at the Burrow. Such a warm, joyful place. Full of friends. Family.

Expectations.

Everyone expecting her to end up with Ron. Even herself. Until she realised that the thought terrified her. Made the house feel like a trap. Felt like she was an outsider, looking in at this perfect life…and that only once she was outside in the dark, away from it all, could she finally breathe.

She hears Narcissa take a sharp breath. “I…that is not…”

Hermione turns to face Narcissa. Walks closer. “Talk to me. Please, Narcissa. It’s just us. No one else is here. And I understand. I understand the pressure to—”

Narcissa laughs coldly. “Understand? You don’t understand at all! So you don’t want to marry Weasley. You’ll disappoint your friends. Lose him as a friend. That is nothing like— today is a day that my family has been preparing me for my entire life! Every lesson I have ever learnt, about how to walk, and talk, and think, and feel, and— all so that I may marry well. Marry the young Malfoy heir. I did not find myself on this path. I was born on this path. It is the only path. Steep cliffs on either side. It is that aisle, or a—or—”

Narcissa is stuttering now. And pale. Shivering. Panicking.

Well that can’t happen. This is…probably Hermione’s mind. So…

She imagines a blanket. A big, warm blanket. And it appears. Good.

She wraps it around Narcissa’s shoulders. And slowly reaches for Narcissa’s hand. Takes it. Narcissa doesn’t pull away. Okay.

Hermione looks into angry blue eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry you have to do this. It’s not fair. You shouldn’t have to. You should be able to do whatever you want. Choose your own path, and have people there to support you. But…you will. I know you will. One day…all of the rules trapping you in will fall away.”

Narcissa looks down at the ground. And then sits down on the damp grass, pulling Hermione with her. Clears her throat. “And then who will I be? If I’m not Narcissa Malfoy, if the path I am walking fades away…where does that leave me?”

Ah. Here we are.

Hermione waits for Narcissa to look at her. And smiles. “You will be Narcissa. And you will do whatever you want. You will study your passions, spend time with your family. Wear the clothes that you want, and eat the food that you want. Spend your time however you want. Because it’s your life. For you. Not anyone else.”

Narcissa laughs again. Self-deprecatingly. “I’m not sure I know what I want. I just know that I don’t want…this.” She gestures at herself. At the wedding dress.

Hermione moves closer to her. Puts an arm around her and stares at the Burrow. “I know. I never wanted that either. It’s terrifying, isn’t it?”

Narcissa breathes out a sigh. “Gods, yes. Terrifying. I fear my heart is screaming at me. I may just collapse at the altar. I shudder to think what— please say I do not faint like some wilting flower.”

Uhh…Hermione doesn’t know. But she doesn’t think so. In any case, Narcissa does get married to Lucius.

But also said that she’s slept with witches. When did _that_ happen? Not that— it’s not any of Hermione’s business, so—

Narcissa turns to her, wide-eyed. “I sleep with a witch? When? When do I— oh. And I sleep with you? Oh I did know that. I’m not sure how I know, but I know you, Hermione. I remember you.”

Shit. Did Hermione just spoil the future for Narcissa? How is this— what is happening? Where even are they? Whose mind are they in?

Narcissa turns sideways and slowly reaches for Hermione’s other hand. Clears her throat. “May I kiss you? I want— I want to…I need something to get me through today. Anything to cling to. May I— or just hold me. Just— I would much rather it be you.”

Oh. Oh this Narcissa is suddenly so shy.

Rather it be her? Rather…Narcissa marry her? Umm…does Narcissa want to marry her? She’s not sure if—

Narcissa laughs. “Now don’t you start getting cold feet too. I’m the one getting married. I just meant that given the choice, I would choose to hold you. To kiss you, rather than Lucius. And seeing as we have already slept together, I thought it would not be a ridiculous request.”

Oh. Okay. Hermione isn’t quite sure if Narcissa can really consent to this…but she also doesn’t know if it’s real at all. Is it okay to kiss a memory?

Narcissa huffs. Stands up, grumbling. “Perhaps you care for me too much. Worry about me. You are not…forcing yourself on me! I want you to kiss me! I’m telling you! And— and I kissed you this morning so—”

This morning? So this Narcissa is aware of what’s going on. It’s kind of…two Narcissa’s in one. Trapped in the past, but aware of the future.

Alright. Just a kiss. She hopes Narcissa won’t be upset about this. She stands up too.

Narcissa ducks her head. “Oh. You really will? Gosh, I— well you told me that in the future I will be able to decide what I want. And I don’t know how many years I will have to wait but— yes. Yes, I want to kiss you. So I’m going to.”

Narcissa leans in. This is so weird. Is this going to be their first kiss? It is for Narcissa…or is it? It just feels—

“Wait!” Hermione shouts. Narcissa stops.

And Hermione hugs her instead. “Sorry. I just— you seemed scared again. Unsure. I don’t— I don’t think it’s our time yet. Not yet. But if you need me to hold you then— then I can do that.”

And Narcissa sinks into her embrace. Presses her face into Hermione’s neck. “Oh good. I think I was frightened, actually. I just thought that— well you’re always so kind to me and— no. I’m not ready. I was ignoring what I really want. What I…this is better. I don’t want to do something new right now. Not at this moment. I have all that to come.”

Hermione just holds Narcissa. Gently. Just breathes with her. “It will be okay, Narcissa. All of these expectations…will just fade away. I wish I could take them away right now, but I can’t. Sorry.”

Narcissa sighs. Pulls her close and brushes her fingertips over Hermione’s back. Her sides. “That’s alright. You’ve done enough. You’re here. You’ve listened. You care.”

Well. She didn’t do much. It’s just a hug. A few words. And she can relate. She’d been stuck on the wrong path before. And it had been terrifying to tell Harry. To tell Ginny. To finally tell Ron. But once she’d said it…everything was suddenly okay. She wasn’t on the outside, looking in. Because she’d made herself part of the story. Taken it in a new direction.

Narcissa sniffs and pulls back. “Yes. I think that’s what I am going to do. Once all these expectations are behind me, once I am not quite so caged in, I think I will choose my own path. The altar isn’t the end. I’ll be fine. I’ll carry on. Wait to begin my own story.”

Hermione closes her eyes. It’s not fair. Not fair that Narcissa ever had to do this. So she never wanted to marry Lucius at all. She never…if this is what she really felt, if this is true, then she’d been terrified. With no one to talk to.

Another scared Narcissa. Is that all this is? All the fears that Narcissa has ever had, calling for Hermione? Not even calling. Not really. Narcissa telling herself to listen to Hermione.

But why Hermione? And why can’t Narcissa sleep? And how is Narcissa in…her…head…

Because _Narcissa_ is in her head. She came in. All of her. So when Narcissa said to find her, to talk to her…

Hermione keeps her eyes scrunched tightly shut. _I want to help the Narcissa that can’t sleep. Can I speak to her? The one that is too scared to sleep without another mind present?_

And she opens her eyes. And smiles.

Oh dear. That isn’t what she’d meant.

Hermione looks around at the dark bedroom. Hmm. She kind of understands why this would be frightening. It’s big. And empty. The wind is howling outside, branches scraping at the window.

She looks back at the bed. A tiny blonde head disappears under the bedding as Narcissa hides from her.

Hermione walks over. An oil lamp on the bedside table? Purebloods. How ridiculous.

She lights it anyway, and the glow fills the room. And the blonde head pops back out. Big blue eyes. Adorable. How old is she?

The little girl slowly holds up three fingers. Three. She’s three…and can hear Hermione’s thoughts?

The child looks nervously at the lamp. “It’s bedtime,” she whispers. “You’re being naughty. No lights at bedtime, Hermione. All off.”

Hermione chuckles quietly. Is she being scolded by a three-year-old now?

And what should she say? Hmm…

Hermione sits down on the bed. “It can be scary sometimes, in the dark, can’t it? I didn’t want you to be scared.”

The little girl folds her arms. “I’m not scared! I’m a Black. Blacks are never scared. And I’m three now. That’s old enough to have my own room, and my own bed. Drommie thinks I’m still a little baby, but I’m not! I can do anything!”

Hermione smiles. “Anything?”

Narcissa sits up. Not hiding anymore. Fear forgotten. “Yes.”

Hermione pretends to think very seriously. “Can you…count to ten?”

Narcissa groans exasperatedly. “Hermione! I already told you! I’m not a baby, I know all the numbers.”

All the numbers. But that’s not counting.

Narcissa glares. “One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve…Hermione this will take all night! Numbers go forever. Bella says they’re infinite. Which means they don’t have an end.”

Wow. Smart kid.

Narcissa smiles. “Yes. I’m clever. And I’m a legilimens _and_ an occlumens. That’s better than Bella, and Drommie, and everyone!”

Hermione can’t believe this three-year-old can read everyone’s thoughts. How is…there are so many things that a child shouldn’t know! Shouldn’t hear!

Narcissa shake her head. “I don’t _read_ thoughts. It’s not reading. It’s…listening, and seeing and…like a puzzle. And if there’s anything scary or dull then, shoop, I make it go away. Don’t look. Don’t listen. Make it all soft and quiet and happy again.”

Narcissa pats down her quilt. Smooths it out. Traces along the pattern with her finger.

Oh.

This is a little girl. A very confident little girl, who is trying to take control, but…who needs someone to look after her. To be the adult. To let her be a child.

“Narcissa, you’re right. It’s bedtime,” Hermione says firmly. “So lie back down, and I’ll turn out the light. But just to keep you warm and safe, I’m going to give you a friend to stay with you, okay?”

Narcissa lies down. Pulls the blanket back up. “A friend?”

“Yes. You are a smart, brave, funny little girl, Narcissa. And you are doing so well all by yourself. But everyone needs a friend sometimes. Even big girls with their own beds. Expecto patronum!”

And her otter appears. Thank goodness. She wasn’t quite sure. And she can feel its warmth. So it works.

Narcissa gasps. Eyes wide and shining in wonder. “A patronus? Happy magic? I’ve never seen that. Can I do that?”

Her otter flies over to the little girl. Spins around and chirps at her, and Narcissa reaches out her fingers to stroke it with a wide smile.

Hermione extinguishes the oil lamp. The patronus lights up the dark. “You can do anything, Narcissa. I’m sure one day you’ll have your very own patronus. But until then, you can share mine. It will keep you safe, and warm, and happy, even when I’m not here. I’ll leave it right here with you.”

And the otter lies down with Narcissa. Right next to her, like a glowing white toy.

Narcissa closes her eyes. “Thank you. I’ll look after him, I promise. I know he’s not real, but I’m going to pretend. I’m going to pretend he really is my bestest friend. You think he might disappear when you’re gone, but he won’t. He’ll stay right here with me, forever. An infinite otter.”

Forever? Is this Narcissa trapped here forever? In this one moment in time?

Narcissa reaches out, eyes still closed, and strokes Hermione’s arm. “Always here. But it’s better now. You always make everything better, Hermione. I think you’re my best friend now. Just like Otter.”

Hermione smiles. Strokes the little blonde head. “Otter is me. He’s my happiness. All of my happiest thoughts and memories, right here with you. So get some sleep, Narcissa. You’re not alone. You can sleep now.”

Narcissa yawns. “I’ll try, but I don’t think I’ll be able to. Not yet. Not until we fix what Bella did.”

Hermione’s breath catches. She reaches over to stroke the otter, a chill going down her spine. “What Bella did? What did Bella do?”

Narcissa opens her eyes. “Something horrible. Horrible, and frightening, and very bad. I used to know what it was…but I’ve hidden it away. I don’t look at it. It’s too loud and scary. But you know what it was. Everyone knows. That’s why I have to fix it.”

Hermione feels her heart start to race. Strokes Narcissa’s little cheek. “Did she do something bad to you, Narcissa?”

Narcissa sits up and laughs. “No! Not me! Don’t be silly, Hermione. Bella loves me.”

And then she lies back down again. Hugs the otter. Hermione isn’t sure how, seeing as it’s not a physical object…but apparently it is. Apparently Narcissa can hug it.

“Loved me,” Narcissa says sadly. “Bella is gone now. I wasn’t there, but I know. Drommie is still here though. That’s nice.”

Hermione lets out a relieved breath. So Bellatrix never hurt Narcissa. She…then what is she talking about? Does she mean…Hermione? That Bellatrix hurt Hermione?”

“Don’t!” Narcissa shouts, and presses a little hand over Hermione’s mouth. “Don’t think about that! Not that one! Bella hurt you too! Why? Why does she do all of these bad things? Are all grown-ups bad? Except you?”

Hermione quickly thinks about all the kind people she knows. Harry and Ginny. Molly sending Narcissa cake. Podsley telling Narcissa to get some sleep.

Narcissa slowly lies back down. “Oh. Okay. Yes, that’s right. Grown-ups don’t just hurt people. They help people too. That’s what I do. Help people when they’re hurt. That’s how I’m going to fix it. I wish I could fix Bella…but I can’t. So I’ll fix what she did instead.”

Right. So it’s something to do with healing. St Mungo’s. Maybe whatever Narcissa’s research is.

“Secret research,” Narcissa whispers, pressing a finger to her lips. “Now let me sleep, Hermione! It’s awfully late. It’s been dark for ages. Otter will look after me.”

Yes. Hermione really should leave. She can’t expose any more of her thoughts to this innocent little girl. It’s not fair. And she shouldn’t find out Narcissa’s secrets like this. Time to go.

“Goodnight, Narcissa. Sweet dreams.”

Hermione closes her eyes.

“Goodnight, Hermione. I love you.”

Oh.

Umm.

She opens her eyes.

And is in the Gryffindor Common Room.

_Narcissa? I’m back_

_Well, it’s about time! Right. I’m getting you out this instant. Don’t you dare think about anything_

Uhh, she’s not sure how to do that.

And she’s back in her living room. Sat on the sofa and…very thirsty. And hungry. The real world?

Narcissa kneels down in front of her and takes her hands. “Are you alright? I’m so sorry. I don’t understand what— you’re thirsty. Of course. Here.”

And a glass speeds into the room from the kitchen. Narcissa casts an aguamenti and hands it to her. Hermione drinks it gratefully. Real. She’s back. Not a memory, or a strange…

She puts the glass down. “I’m okay, Narcissa. It’s fine. How long was I…were you…in my head?”

Narcissa casts a tempus. “Ten Thirty-Nine. Almost four hours. It was as if you were in a coma. Unconscious, but very much conscious. Just like…I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have— I knew I was experiencing problems with my magic. I shouldn’t have endangered you like that.”

Hermione pulls at Narcissa’s hands until she gets up. Sits down next to her on the sofa. Hermione just looks at her. Her Narcissa.

And inside her head…all the other Narcissas.

“Do…so you didn’t see what happened to me?” Hermione asks cautiously.

Narcissa shakes her head. “No. No, not at all. I couldn’t hear your thoughts. Nothing. As if you were…gone. Until suddenly I would hear you again. And you would be thinking about…me. Or quidditch. Or…cake, or some such…oh. So that is what you meant. You spoke with…me.”

Hermione slowly nods. “I can show you, if that’s possible? Put the memories in a pensieve. Would that work?”

Narcissa rests her head in her hands. “It probably would work, yes. But I’m…hesitant. My mind…revealed itself to you for a reason. And was very clear that it did not wish me to see anything. To interfere. My subconscious is…screaming for help. Insistent that I am doing something wrong. I just do not understand _what._ And why _._ Why you? Why now? Why…”

Hermione’s stomach growls. She smiles at Narcissa apologetically. “Is that cake still here? It’s gone dinner time, and I can’t be bothered to cook so…cake?”

Narcissa raises an eyebrow. “Cake? In the middle of the night? How improper.”

She does stand up though. Follows Hermione into the kitchen. Hermione is pretty sure that Narcissa knows exactly how ironic that comment was. That she can see the memory in Hermione’s head…maybe.

Hermione cuts them both a slice of cake, and then walks over to look out the window. At the stars.

Hermione takes a steadying breath. “Which star is Bellatrix?”

No reply.

Narcissa walks over to the back door. Puts her hand on the handle. “Are you sure, Hermione? You don’t have to…she was not your sister. She was…”

Hermione walks over. “I’m sure. And it actually helps. I’d rather think of…maybe if I learn enough good things about her, it will make it less hard. Then, if— if that memory springs to mind, I can imagine her giving you cake. Like with a boggart. Not nearly so frightening.”

Narcissa stares at her. “Oh. So you do know about the cake. I wasn’t sure. Well, if you are certain, come on, then. Let’s eat cake made by a Weasley, and I’ll show you my family in the stars.”

She turns the lock, and pushes the door open. A cold wind blows in. Hermione goes outside anyway. Into her garden. Looks up at the sky. It’s a clear night.

Narcissa puts a hand on her shoulder and turns her. “South East. We are lucky that it is nearing November. That is when the Orion constellation is the brightest. Now, see that very bright star, close to the horizon? That is Sirius. Not a part of the Orion constellation of course, but of note just the same. The brightest star in the night sky. Part of the Canis Major constellation.”

A dog. Of course.

Narcissa laughs. “Yes, irony or fate? Who knows? Siri knew his namesake. Perhaps, subliminally…well. We all knew our parts.”

Hermione takes a bite of cake. It’s delicious. Molly and her magic.

_And because it is forbidden. Cake under the stars always tastes better_

Hermione turns to smile at Narcissa. It’s true. Narcissa has been right all these years. Secret cake is definitely the best dessert.

Narcissa looks at the horizon again. “So. Above Sirius, further up, there are three stars in a row. Alnitak, Alnilam, and Mintaka. That is Orion’s Belt. You have to turn you head sideways to view the image, but he is standing in a fighting stance, shield held out in his right hand, and wand raised behind him in his left. That is how I argued that my being left-handed was not something to bring shame to the family. If Orion can hold his wand in his left hand, then so may I. Quite the logical argument for a four-year-old. Father found it amusing and agreed.”

Oh. Yes, there are definitely three stars in a row. She can’t really see the rest…there are some bright stars around the belt too.

Narcissa sighs. “Bellatrix is the third brightest star in the constellation. The warrior star, placed at Orion’s right shoulder. Wielding the shield. The tale goes, that Orion is fighting the Taurus constellation, placed just above. A charging bull. Bellatrix was very proud of her star. From when she was…well. I can remember at a very young age pretending to be a bull and charging at her. Silly, really. I always thought I would somehow knock her down. I never did.”

That’s…so sweet. She thinks back to the little three-year-old in the bed. A three-year-old who could do anything. Imagines her running as fast as she can at Bellatrix, head lowered like a bull. Trying to push her over.

And then has the ridiculous thought of Narcissa doing that only a few years ago. At the Manor. Just running and crashing into Bellatrix Lestrange. Knocking her over in the hallway and sending her flying. Ridiculous.

Narcissa barks out a laugh. “Oh I wish I had. Can you imagine— perhaps the shock of it would finally have caught her by surprise. Stopped everything in its tracks.”

Hermione laughs too. Lets herself laugh. Looks up at the stars, eyes searching out the Sirius star.

And silently thanks Remus Lupin for his advice all those years ago. Sometimes laughter is the strongest of magic. Especially when facing your fears.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back, a bit later than expected probably. I'll be a bit less frequent with the updates for a while, sorry! The holidays are over, so it's back to life, back to reality. As crazy as reality is these days!
> 
> So here's another little chapter to escape into!

They go to bed shortly after that. Well. After Narcissa goes back home to get some clothes and other belongings. Puts her toothbrush in the bathroom. Very hesitantly. Hermione can see the panic in her eyes. Doesn’t comment.

But can’t help thinking about the Narcissa in a wedding dress. About how she understands now why domesticity can be terrifying. Finding yourself on a path when you’re not quite sure you’re ready.

Hermione slips into bed. _It’s just for now. We just have to keep talking and figuring things out as we go. That’s all_

Narcissa gets in next to her with a huff. _I cannot believe how much my mind told you about— I am even more sympathetic to your lack of privacy now, Hermione. Honestly. How awful to have my mind blabbing all of— how overly dramatic. I am fine. And I did not faint at the altar, thank you very much_

Hermione turns out the light, and stares into the dark as her eyes adjust. _It’s very frustrating, isn’t it. But I completely understand. You couldn’t help talking to me. You didn’t even know it was happening so— would you like me to do anything differently? If it happens again? I feel bad that I know things you might not have wanted to tell me_

Narcissa turns to face her. “As I have been doing to you for days now. From what little I have seen and inferred…no. Don’t change a thing. Just do what comes naturally. I…trust you.”

She reaches out and brushes some hair out of Hermione’s face. “And hopefully it shall not happen again! My goodness. You will have seen my whole life. And we have things to do. Insects to squash. I’m expecting rather a lot of owls tomorrow. Goodbye, Rita Skeeter.”

Hermione smiles. So clever. And brave. And funny.

Narcissa closes her eyes. Pinches her brow with a sigh. “Three years old? Yes. Yes, that was my first night in my own room rather than the nursery. In an adult sized bed. The end of infancy. I must have said such nonsense to you.”

Hermione shakes her head. “Actually, you were very smart. Explained a lot of things to me about legilimency and how your mind works. And…Narcissa, I know that your research is confidential, and you don’t have to tell me anything, but…there’s obviously a connection. Could I help? If you tell me what it is, then there might be something you haven’t thought of. A new angle.”

Narcissa rolls to face away from her. _It’s confidential. And needs to remain so. I cannot risk— I’m sorry, Hermione. But I really would rather not tell you_

Hermione rolls over with a sigh. Closes her eyes. _Alright. It’s alright. You’ve already had to reveal so much. We can…how are my thoughts now? Are they loud?_

The bedding shifts. The wind whistles.

_No. Not loud. You’re thinking…softly_

Good. That’s good, right? So today helped?

She wonders if…can Narcissa sleep on her own now?

An arm loops around Hermione’s waist from behind.

_Perhaps tomorrow. I’ll try to sleep alone tomorrow_

Hermione relaxes into the mattress, and trails her fingers over Narcissa’s arm. Smiles.

Yes. Not now. Maybe tomorrow.

* * *

Hermione wakes up on top of Narcissa. So that’s new. And to the sound of…hooting. Squawks. Claws scraping against glass.

Owls.

_Narcissa? Are you awake?_

Blue eyes peek open. Close again. _No_

Hermione laughs. Kisses Narcissa’s cheek. “It’s morning. And you have owls waiting. You don’t want to squash the bug?”

Eyes open again. _My arm is numb. And my leg_

Oh!

Hermione scrambles off of her. “Sorry! Don’t know how that happened. I’ll let the owls in though, before they annoy the neighbours. I know it’s early, but we have so much to do! I’m sure after a cup of coffee—”

Narcissa sits up. “Tea. I’ll be having tea. After I have had a shower and returned to the land of the living. _You_ are going to open the downstairs window for the owls. Not up here. No owls in my shower.”

Right. Okay. Fair enough.

Hermione shrugs on her dressing gown, and walks downstairs. Apparently to make tea.

* * *

“Excellent!”

Hermione looks up from her toast.

Narcissa grins. “That’s five shops in Diagon Alley stocking the Quibbler rather than the Prophet, one journalist who has jumped ship and would rather _write_ for the Quibbler. Harold Hornsby. Lovely gentleman. And of course there are still the replies from the Weasleys, Mr Potter, and Mr Longbottom. Miss Parkinson should actually like to interview the both of us at some future date. Her photoshoot and interview with Ginevra shall take place this Friday. If that goes well, then she may contact us later in the month.”

Hermione grins back. “That’s brilliant! Hang on, let me just see what Harry— yes. He’s on board of course. Next time someone asks for a comment, he’ll try to condemn Skeeter for provoking violence. Spreading prejudiced beliefs. And he’s switching out the Prophet for other papers down at the Auror offices. He also…oh dear.”

She cringes. _Draco read the Prophet. Saw our picture at the café_

Narcissa sighs heavily. Massages her temples and takes a sip of tea. _Right. It seems our time has run out on that front. He was bound to find out eventually. Perhaps—_

They both freeze. That sounded like the floo.

“Hello?” Hermione calls out.

Narcissa tilts her head to the side. _It’s Andromeda. Wondering if you might watch Teddy_

“Hermione? Are you up?” a voice calls.

Yep. That’s Andy.

Hermione stands up. _What should I say?_

Narcissa takes another sip of tea. “Invite her in, if you wish. Andromeda may as well find out now. She has certainly seen the Prophet and made an accurate enough assumption.”

Right. But…dating Andy’s little sister, and _sleeping_ with her sister, are a bit different. Andy can be scary.

_And will come in anyway if you do not answer. As I said. She is very much like Miss Weasley. No manners_

That is true. Hermione hastily walks into the living room. Andy’s head is in the fire. “Hi, Andy. I’m sure I could take Teddy for a few hours if you want. I am quite busy though, sorry. How long do you need?”

Andy raises an eyebrow. “And how did you know that’s why I’m here? Hmm…It’s like you could read my mind. I didn’t know _you_ could do that...”

Ah. Oops.

And Andy looks past Hermione, over her shoulder. Laughs. “I knew it! Well, well. Busy with my sister, are you, Hermione?”

Narcissa tuts. “You have interrupted breakfast, Andromeda. Nothing more.”

Andy narrows her eyes. Looks at Hermione. Back to Narcissa. “And you’re having breakfast here because…”

Hermione sighs. Let’s get this over with. They’re all adults. “Because she spent the night. Now do you want to come over too? There’s a pot of tea, and you can tell me why I need to watch Teddy on a Sunday. Oh. It’s Sunday.”

Andy’s head disappears. And then she steps into the room, Teddy holding her hand firmly. “Yes. Sunday. So I know you’ll be at the Burrow for lunch,” she grins. “Now that should be interesting. Say good morning to Hermione and Auntie Cissa, Teddy.”

Teddy hides his face in Andromeda’s side, oddly shy.

Narcissa crouches down with a frown. “Now what is the matter? You’ve been here before, haven’t you, Teddy? And nobody is going anywhere just yet. We’re all going to finish our breakfast. May you show me where Hermione keeps the milk, so I may pour you a glass? Or orange juice, perhaps?”

Teddy stops hiding. “Is there chocolate milk?”

Narcissa taps a finger to her lips. _Well?_

Oh. _I have…cocoa powder. And sugar_

Narcissa hums in thought. “Perhaps chocolate milk may be possible. If you ask Hermione very nicely. It is her kitchen, after all.”

Teddy grins. “Please, Hermione! Can we? Or coke! Or Fanta! Do you have Fanta?”

His hair curls. His eyes change to match her own. A mini-Hermione. “Please!”

Andromeda tuts. “No fizzy drinks except on special occassions. You know the rule. That doesn’t change at Hermione’s house.”

Hermione smiles. “She’s right. Rules are rules. So if you don’t want chocolate milk…”

His hair changes to blond. Straightens. “No! I still want some! Come on, Auntie Cissa. I’ll show you where the milk is.”

He takes Narcissa’s hand and starts pulling her towards the kitchen. “Do you know what a fridge is? Gran says there’s lots of things you don’t know, because you don’t have any muggle friends. You’re so funny, Auntie Cissa. How can you be so old and not know what a fridge is?”

Oh dear.

Hermione holds back a laugh and looks over at Andy. Who doesn’t hold back her laughter at all. Just laughs loudly.

“And just how old do you think I am?” comes Narcissa’s carefully even voice from the other room.

Hermione cringes. Follows after them. Children are awful at guessing ages. Please say—

“I don’t know. Umm…you’re a grown-up, so…twenty-six? Like Uncle Harry?”

Hermione peeks around the kitchen door. Teddy is bringing Narcissa the milk. Narcissa is smiling. “Almost correct. And how old do you think your gran is?”

Hermione hears a huff from behind her. Andy.

Teddy watches as Narcissa accios the cocoa powder and sugar from the cupboards, and a spoon from the drawer. Leans his elbow on the counter and looks up at her, watching her wand movement as the spoon begins to stir. “That’s easy. Gran just had her birthday last month. She’s fifty-two. That’s twenty-six years older than Uncle Harry. He told me. Oh. Is she twenty-six years older than you too?”

Narcissa adds a spoonful of sugar. “Yes. Very good. That calculation was—”

Andy pushes Hermione out of the way and stomps into the room. “Don’t tell fibs, Cissy. I may be your big sister but I’m not thirty years— Teddy, Auntie Cissa is five years younger than me. So that’s fifty-two take away five. Can you do that? You might need some paper.”

Teddy frowns. Holds up five fingers. “Fifty-two in my head, and then…Fifty-one, fifty, forty-nine, forty-eight, forty-seven. Forty-seven? Is that right?”

Forty-seven? So she was…twenty-one when she had Draco. That Narcissa in a wedding dress was younger than she’d thought. Twenty, maybe?

Narcissa clears her throat. “Well done, Teddy. Yes. Forty-seven. I’m afraid I did tell a little fib. Some people do when asked about their age. Now, take this and carry it out to the dining table. Hermione and I have not yet finished breakfast. Be careful, it’s full.”

“Thank you, Auntie Cissa. And forty-seven is a good number. You shouldn’t lie. I have a dinosaur puzzle that has forty-seven pieces. It’s my favourite.”

They all slowly follow Teddy out of the room and down the corridor. Apparently holding a large glass of milk steady is a challenge.

Hermione takes Narcissa’s hand as Andy turns her back to them, walking behind Teddy. _You didn’t lie because of me, did you? Because seeing as Draco is my age—_

_Of course not. My ego is hardly that fragile. No, it was merely to annoy Andromeda, and to make conversation that did not revolve around my…ignorance of muggles_

Oh. Is she embarrassed about that? _But you do know what a fridge is. Kind of. You know as much as I do_

_And also, as Teddy so clearly stated, have no muggle friends. My behaviour is laughable to an eight-year-old_

Hermione stops walking. Turns to face Narcissa. _Eight and a half. He’s very particular about the half. And…you’re my friend. So you’re friends with half a muggle. Or, no. That’s not right. I’m a full muggle…but also a witch. Hmm. Bi-racial? Bi-cultural? Do we have a term for it?_

Narcissa raises an eyebrow. _Muggleborn?_

Hermione laughs. “I knew that! I just mean…oh, forget it! And don’t worry, I don’t really have any muggle friends either. Just family. A few old friends from primary school that I don’t keep in touch with enough. Not like I could invite anyone over with the floo sounding all the time and owls just flying in.”

Narcissa frowns. “Muggles don’t know about owls? But they’re wild animals. Native to Britain and many other countries. Do they not have cats or toads either?”

Hermione smiles. It’s so sweet. Such genuine confusion from such a clever witch who usually knows everything.

Narcissa opens her mouth in protest. _I’m not some naïve little—_

Hermione kisses her. Smiles against her lips and wraps her arms around her.

_Miss Granger! My sister—_

_Already knows about us, and is in the other room by now anyway. Do you really want me to stop?_

And Hermione finds herself pressed up against a wall. How did that happen? Is she not allowed to be the seducer? And— _Narcissa, hands! Children present_

Narcissa’s hands continue to edge under Hermione’s pyjamas. _In the other room, as you said_

_And wondering where we are!_

Narcissa presses closer and flicks her tongue into Hermione’s mouth. _No, he is busy telling Andromeda about dinosaurs. Andromeda is pretending to listen whilst looking through our post. We have a few minutes…_

Minutes? A few minutes to— in the hallway?!

Hermione pushes Narcissa away. “Stop it,” she whispers. “Don’t tempt me. There is an eight-year-old in the other room, and your sister is not that unobservant. We can— later.” _Tonight. I’ll make love to you properly tonight. Over and over. I promise_

Narcissa steps back and straightens her clothes. Licks her lips. _I’ll hold you to that. No falling asleep on me tonight_

Hermione reties her dressing gown and pats down her hair, looking away embarrassedly. _I won’t. I can’t believe I— oh, why does Andy have to be here now? We have to look after a kid? Why? Let’s just tell them to leave and then—_

“Hey lovebirds, get in here! Everyone had better be fully dressed in that hallway!” Andy shouts.

Shit.

“Lovebirds? Why are they lovebirds? You mean like Uncle Harry and Cousin Draco?” comes Teddy’s voice.

What?!

Hermione and Narcissa hurry into the dining room. Andy looks up at them from behind The Prophet. Where did she get that?

“Yes. Just like Harry and Draco. Except these two are a bit cleverer. They’re not denying it, are you, Cissy?”

Narcissa snatches the paper from Andromeda, scrunches it up, and sets it on fire. “No propaganda at the table, Andromeda. We read the Quibbler now. For obvious reasons. You shall do so also.”

Teddy watches gleefully as the ball of paper burns, hovering in mid-air.

Andy folds her arms. “Don’t go giving him ideas about playing with fire. And you haven’t answered my question.”

Hermione sits down, pulling her half-eaten toast back towards her. “Well it was a silly question. And what do you mean about Harry and Draco?”

Teddy groans. “She _means_ they’re in love with each other, and everyone knows, and they should just live together instead of saying goodbye every night and getting all sad.”

Everyone smiles over at Teddy. Okay. Well…that is true.

Narcissa hums. “It is their relationship. If they do not feel ready to live together, that is their decision. We should not judge or make assumptions.”

Andy’s grin softens. She looks across the table at Narcissa. Looks at her carefully. “No. No judgement. Whatever their relationship is…is fine. Whatever makes them happy.”

A silence settles.

Teddy slurps at his milk. Looks around at them all. “Umm…Hermione? Can I get down from the table? I already had breakfast. And I want to play with Crookshanks.”

Hermione makes eye contact with Andy. _Is that okay?_

 _Yes. I need to talk to you both anyway without him here_ Andromeda’s voice speaks into her head.

Hermione smiles. “Yes, Teddy. And well done for asking. If you’re finished with your milk, then take the glass to the kitchen for me and leave it on the side. If not, then save some for later. I don’t think you should have it around Crooks. It might spill.”

Teddy grins. “Or he might pounce on it! Or drink it. I’ll leave it here on the table.”

He runs off. “Crookshanks! Where are you?!”

Andy watches him leave. And then leans forward over the table to grin at them. “So. I heard we’re taking down Rita Skeeter. I’m in.”


	20. Chapter 20

Hermione sits down next to Narcissa on the sofa in shock as Andy floos away. Wow. Some of those ideas were…

_Andromeda does not take well to people threatening her family. I’m sure whatever she is up to today will be…beneficial…but it is probably for the best that we not know her whereabouts, she is correct_

Wha…

Hermione turns to face Narcissa. “She won’t…go too far, will she?”

Narcissa stares. Blinks. “Nobody will come to…irreparable harm, no. She is merely…putting plans into place. Contingencies. Connections.”

Right. That’s…but who? What? It can’t be _that_ underground. Tonks was an auror. Surely Andy isn’t…

“A criminal?” Narcissa smirks. “No. She’s too clever for that. She has a law degree, you know. Two. One wizarding, one muggle. She’s had a lot of spare time on her hands. And…well since she left our childhood home, rediscovering what is right and wrong has been something that intrigued her. Interested her. She began with a philosophy degree and…branched out.”

…Does Hermione know Andy at all? Where did this come from?! And philosophy? Really? Ethics? Because what she’s up to today—

_Could be considered as fighting an injustice. Karma. And she never actually told us what she will be up to today_

Hermione snorts. _No, but I can read between the lines_

Narcissa grins at her. _Indeed. Justice will be served_

Teddy runs into the room and throws himself at Hermione’s legs. “Hermione! Crookshanks has gone outside. I’m bored! What are we doing today? Can I watch TV?”

Right. Childcare. She could just stick him in front of the TV. She does have some seating plans to draft out. And the issue of centaurs and merfolk and if chairs might be…insulting. In fact, all magical creatures. What height should the chairs be? Goblins sit high in Gringotts. House-elves hardly ever sit. Giants—

_…clever…fast…children…Draco…magic…thoughts…open…Stonehenge…sticky…disgusting…clean…_

“Teddy what on earth do you have on your hands? Go and wash them at once.Then perhaps I may find you something to entertain yourself with. You’re eight years old. You need to spend your free time doing, not watching. For your brain to develop, do you understand?”

Hermione focuses back on the room as Teddy walks off with a huff to wash his hands, Narcissa following behind him. So the subconscious thoughts are still doing their thing. That’s surprising. They’ve been quiet since…yesterday, she thinks.

“I’m eight and a half!” Teddy sighs loudly. “And it’s Sunday, Auntie Cissa! I don’t want to do anymore schoolwork! I did all of my reading, and spellings, and numeracy, and science, and art, and cooking, and music, and…”

He carries on yammering away, skipping down the corridor by the sound of it. Hmm. Andy really does take home-schooling seriously.

And Narcissa, apparently. So no TV. But…can Hermione get some work done? It isn’t really fair for her to leave this to Narcissa. She has work too. Research. And it was Hermione who agreed to watch Teddy.

_It’s fine. Two hours with me, two hours with you, and then you shall return him to Andromeda at the Burrow when you meet for your weekly luncheon_

That works. But also means she won’t spend any time with Narcissa today. How annoying. And the legilimency was just getting interesting.

_Interesting? Infinitely more aggravating, perhaps. And we are hardly apart. I may have to return to the Manor for some of Draco’s old books, but—_

“Auntie Cissa! Please!” Teddy shouts.

Hermione tries not to be too curious. Accios her notes towards her and settles at the table to begin working.

“Certainly not,” Narcissa tuts, walking past down the corridor. “Your gran was very clear. Not until your reflexes improve. In fact, yes. Get your cloak and come with me into the garden.”

“To fly?!” Teddy says excitedly, running into the living room.

Narcissa chuckles. “No. Still a definitive no. And the fact that your cloak is upside down and you have not yet noticed is precisely my point. What do quidditch players need to do before they get on a broom? Before they even think about a match?”

Upside down? Oh Teddy. Hermione focuses back on her parchment, shaking her head. Come on. Seating. Diplomacy. Equality. Think.

“Put on pads and helmets? Tie their shoes?” Teddy guesses.

Hermione hears the back door open.

“Yes, but that is not what I meant. No, they need to train. Practice. Build up muscles and agility. Do you know what those words mean?”

The door closes. Silence.

Hermione picks up a pencil. Hmm. Maybe…this has never been done before, a meeting on this scale, but each race or group does have its own form of meeting. Of council. If she finds the overlap…

Goblins meet in caves. As do house-elves. Centaurs in forests, no…

Back to seating. Centaurs can’t sit. So standing.

For a whole meeting? Or should each race have their own form of seating? Equal isn’t equal if it does not meet everyone’s needs. Don’t judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree.

_Fish? Tree…what?_

Hermione laughs at the confused voice in her head. _A reference to_ _Albert Einstein. Muggle physicist. A physicist is like…an arithmancer and an astronomist I suppose. Am intellect. A world-renowned genius_

_Hmm. So…play to one’s strengths. And you that is what determines intellect? Condemning standardised tests? That is very unlike you, Miss Granger_

Hermione gets up. Walks upstairs, rolling her eyes. She needs to get dressed. And to think things through. Let her brain figure all this out. Have a shower, maybe, to let her creativity—

_…wet…Hermione…shower…frustration…legilimency…skin…stop…primal…child…innocent…quidditch…Hermione…sex…no…skin…Teddy…_

Hermione laughs. Narcissa’s mind is desperately trying not to imagine her in a shower. And failing. Images are coming through. Just flashes of water, and steam, and skin. And then flashes of Teddy running an…obstacle course? What the hell is going on in her garden?!

She steps into the shower. _Training him early are you, Narcissa? Coaching the next slytherin beater?_

_The next quidditch captain, if he so wishes. But no. He…he desperately wants to fly. Just like Mr Potter, Draco, Miss Weasley. But he has inherited his mother’s…lack of grace. His coordination needs improvement. If he cannot hold a glass steady, how can he hold a broom steady?_

Oh. True. He is quite clumsy. Just like the average eight-year-old, but if he wants to fly a broom…

Yes. Needs to learn some coordination. _Good idea. And it looks like he’s having fun_

_…looks?_

Hermione pauses. Turns off the shower. _Oh. I thought you knew. I saw what you were seeing. Well, thinking. Just flashes_

_…legilimency…unsafe…no control…child…safe…protect…away…_

_Hermione, I’m going to take Teddy to Mr Potter. Or the Weasleys. Or— this isn’t right. This is not— I cannot be— if our minds are not reliable, not stable— he cannot be here_

Shit. Narcissa is panicking. She really shouldn’t—

Hermione frowns. _Are you alright?_

Flashes of Teddy. Of…Narcissa. Narcissa as a child. Crying.

_…wrong…something…why…fear…legilimency…stop…block…shield…confused…stop…Teddy…hide…unsafe_

Hermione hurries out of the shower, accioing her clothes towards her, casting a drying spell at herself and tugging them on. _Narcissa, you need to calm down, okay? Everything is fine. I’ve seen your thoughts before. Your subconscious thoughts. You really need to stay calm, alright? Think about…quidditch. Or cake_

Narcissa can’t be scared, because that’s what caused all of this. It’s her fears that’s reaching out. It’s her fear that—

_…responsible…weight…control…close...run…protect…dangerous…_

Oh no, more flashes of memory. Of— a house. Someone’s house. And St Mungo’s. A crying baby and—

Hermione stumbles down the stairs. “Narcissa? Narcissa, it’s okay! Where are you? Teddy!”

_…shield…control…hold…stop…stupid…scared…wrong…too hard…too much…hold back…stop…_

“Hermione! Help! Something’s wrong with Auntie Cissa!”

Shit. Shit—

Hermione runs into the garden and grabs hold of Teddy as he comes barrelling towards her. “Hermione! She won’t wake up!”

Oh no.

Narcissa is lying in the grass. She’s not moving. She— _Narcissa! Can you hear me? Narcissa!_

And screams fill Hermione’s head. Screams and— and—

Focus. Teddy.

“Expecto patronum! Teddy, it’s okay. She’ll be okay, just one second, sweetie—”

Her otter appears.

“Take this message to Harry, and— and Ginny: Emergency. Come to my house, now. I’m watching Teddy, but Narcissa is— has fallen unconscious. We’re in the garden.”

It flies off, and she looks between Teddy and Narcissa, torn. Okay. Okay. “Teddy, I need you to go inside now. Just sit on the sofa. Harry and Ginny will be here soon. I need to help Auntie Cissa, so I need you to be brave and do as you’re told, okay? Go on now.”

Teddy nods tearfully and runs into the house.

And Hermione runs to Narcissa’s side. “Narcissa? I’m here. What happened? What—”

_…hide…stop…pain…dark…too much…Bella…why…why…mind…strain…help…_

Pain? _Are you hurt, Narcissa? What hurts? Tell me how to help you!_

Whoa!

Where…

She’s lying on the floor. In a kitchen. A baby is crying and— and—

No. No, please. Please no. No no no

Bellatrix Lestrange stands above her. Tilts her head to the side. Frowns. “Oh dear. You’re not looking too good, pet.”

Hermione pants in short sharp breaths. No. No, stop. This can’t be—

Bellatrix crouches down. Presses her forehead against Hermione’s. Stares into her eyes. “Disappearing. Broken. Shit. Shit. Hey, Rod, is your one still alive?”

The world seems to flicker. Tilt. The voices blur.

Hermione tries to close her eyes, but she can’t move. Can’t think. Can’t—

“Tell me yours is still alive Rod! Barty’s fucked this one up! She’s useless!” Bellatrix screeches. “I’m the legilimens. I told you! This was my— fuck!”

There’s a loud bang. Hermione tries to— she needs to—

Broken. Everything is broken. Shattered. She can’t— she can’t remember— can’t—

Someone shakes her shoulder. “Hermione! What are you doing here? You’re not supposed to be here! It’s not safe! Come on!”

…Narcissa?

“Yes. Yes, it’s me. You need to move. Need to leave. Hurry!”

A small hand takes hers. Tugs. But Hermione is too scared to move, heart pounding and vision tunnelling. She just wants it all to disappear. To go away. She has to— Bellatrix is— she’s—

“Hermione, please! I’m frightened! Please leave! I don’t want to be here!”

Oh. Oh wait. Wait—

She manages to focus. To block out the crying. The shouting. The numbing…

A child. Narcissa is a child. Crying. “I wasn’t supposed to see this! I wasn’t supposed to look! I— I tried to stop Bella, but I couldn’t!”

Come on, Hermione. Get up. This isn’t real. This isn’t—

She pulls the child against her. How old is she? Eight? Like Teddy? Is that what’s happening?

Hermione makes some shushing noises to drown out the sounds coming from the kitchen. “It’s okay. It’s alright. Close your eyes, Narcissa. This isn’t real. It’s okay.”

“It is real! It is! I know it— I saw it. I was trying— I was trying to help, but I got stuck.”

Bellatrix is coming back. She’s coming back. And her wand is—

“Tell me! Tell me, now! Where is the Dark Lord?” she growls. “Tell me, or your husband is dead, you hear me, bloodtraitor? Or better yet…hear him! Crucio!”

A horrifying yell echoes through the room.

Narcissa trembles against her. “Stop! Bella, stop!”

Stop stop stop. No no. She can’t— this isn’t—

This is a memory. Alice Longbottom’s memory, she’s sure of it. It’s not real. “It’s not real. It’s not. I’m home. I’m home. I’m safe. Come on, Narcissa. Say it with me. We’re safe, remember? The war is over. It’s over.”

Narcissa hides her face in Hermione’s neck. “It’s over. We’re safe. I’m with Hermione. It’s not real.”

Hermione pulls her close and shuts her eyes. “We’re safe. It’s not real. We’re together. In the garden. We’re in a garden. Feel the grass, Narcissa. We must be on the grass.”

“I can’t feel it! I feel…I feel…”

Hermione can’t feel grass either. She can feel Narcissa, and…

The floor feels soft.

She opens her eyes. “Narcissa? The floor is soft. Can you feel that? It’s…a bed? Or a sofa?”

Narcissa reaches down to touch the floor.

And her eyes fly open. She smiles up at Hermione “It is a bed! Hermione, wake up! You did it! I can feel it! We’re on your bed!”

Wake up? How?

Narcissa groans. “Oh yes. Of course. I remember. Oh, I’m so silly. I have to let you out,” she says, almost apologetically. Politely.

Hermione smiles. It feels…safer now. She can’t hear anything. For some reason she can’t bring herself to look away from Narcissa. Like it doesn’t cross her mind. Like her surroundings aren’t important now. She tries not to question it too much. It seems…like some sort of magic. Like Narcissa’s magic. “You can do that? You can let me out?” Hermione asks softly.

Narcissa takes her hand. Squeezes. Leans in to whisper to her. “You won’t leave me back there, will you? You won’t leave me in there alone?”

What? No!

She squeezes her hand right back. “No! No of course not. I’m right here. You’re leaving too, okay? We’ll leave together. Come with me. Back to my house, where it’s safe. Just show me the way, we’ll go there together.”

Narcissa rubs at her red eyes. Nods again. “Alright. I believe you. You— you’ll stay with me. You’ll…you’ll look after me. Even if it’s scary or— yes. You’ll be right here. Like always.”

Like always…

Like nobody else…

Not commitment issues. Trust issues. Abandonment.

Andromeda. Bellatrix. Narcissa’s parents. Sirius. Regulus. They all left her.

Even Lucius.

Draco is halfway across the world.

No one.

Andy came back, of course. But she left when it was hardest. When Narcissa needed her. When she was scared. Wasn’t reliable.

A house that’s too big. Everything she was taught from childhood deemed wrong, and old-fashioned. Everything muggle alien to her. Confusing. Her path…disappearing.

So she turned to work. To what she knows. Legilimency and healing. But it went wrong.

Her research…was to cure the Longbottoms. To fix what Bella did.

Hermione looks at the little girl sat next to her. The Narcissa who…saw too much. Got stuck. Saw Bella do something frightening, and horrible, and very bad. And became too scared to leave. To find her way out alone.

To sleep. Is this the Narcissa that can’t sleep alone? Trapped in a constant nightmare where the sister she loves…

Right. Time to get out of here.

Hermione stands up, holding tightly to Narcissa’s hand. Finally looks around. They’re…nowhere.

She doesn’t know how, but there’s just…nothing. Just her and Narcissa.

Well. Getting home might be more difficult than she’d thought.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey folks! Finally another update! Yay! 
> 
> Sorry to keep you waiting. The next week is going to be a busy one for me too, but I should post more regularly after that.
> 
> Thank you once again for all the lovely comments and kudos. Let's go!

Hermione looks down at Narcissa. “So…this is your mind? How…how do we leave?”

Narcissa starts walking, swinging their joined hands. “It’s quite simple, really. Or it usually is. Usually…I’m inside my mind…and outside at the same time. It is quite strange that there’s nothing here. See if you can spot something. Something nice. Not…not like back there.”

Hermione stares around the nothingness. What would be nice to Narcissa? Cake? Or…Otter? Does she remember Otter? Maybe even Draco. Or Andy. How much does she remember?

Narcissa sighs. “Hermione, please try to keep up. You’re clever. You know this isn’t real. Of course I know who Draco is. Otherwise, how would I know who you are? How would I know that I work at St Mungo’s? That— that was how I— oh no. No, don’t think about— Hermione, quickly! Don’t let me—”

And a woman appears in front of them. White haired. Gaunt. Eyes…empty. Face vacant of…she just stands there. In a hospital gown. Stands and— holds out her hand. Offers something to Narcissa.

A sweet wrapper.

Narcissa hides her face in Hermione’s side. “I’m sorry, Mrs Longbottom. I did try. I tried to help. I don’t know how to— Hermione, I can’t! Make her go away!”

Alice Longbottom. So this is what happened to her. What she’s like now. Hmm…

Hermione crouches down. “It’s alright, Narcissa. Don’t be scared. She’s…she’s not angry at you. Look. She’s giving you something. Maybe she’s saying thank you. For trying to help. You went to see her, didn’t you? For your research? Tried to…did you use legilimency on her? To make her better?”

Narcissa nods. “I tried to. I wanted to see in her head. To find…her connections are all broken. But she…I think she remembers Neville. Somehow. I wanted to give him his mother back.”

Oh. Oh that’s so sweet. She hugs Narcissa tightly. “Oh Narcissa. And that’s when you got stuck? It must have been very scary to see what Mrs Longbottom saw. You’re so brave. And you did the right thing. It was good to try, but Neville won’t be cross if you can’t fix it. It’s not your fault. And you shouldn’t have to see that memory anymore, it’s not nice. He’ll understand.”

Narcissa hugs her back. “Can we talk about something else now, Hermione? Mrs Longbottom is still a bit scary. Even if she’s trying to be nice. It’s scary to— to see in her head and— it’s all wrong. Broken and wrong.”

Hermione squeezes her one last time and pulls away, hands on her shoulders. “Yes. Yes, she doesn’t have to be here if you don’t want her to be. This is all in your head, okay? You get to be safe here.”

Narcissa slowly shakes her head. “Heads aren’t safe, Hermione,” she whispers. “Not at all. But I’ll try to keep you safe. Here.”

And they’re in the Gryffindor common room.

And Narcissa is older. Fifteen maybe. And angry.

She shoves Hermione’s shoulders so that she falls back on the sofa. “No! What are you doing— oh you left her! How could you!” Narcissa shouts. “You said you wouldn’t leave, and now look! She’s saved you and— go back! Go back this instant!”

Oh no! Wha— what happened? How—

Hang on.

Hermione stands up with a huff. “I didn’t mean to leave! It was you! You left _me_. I didn’t even let go of you, and— and you’re still here, so don’t go blaming me. That little girl _is_ you. You’re right here with me.”

Narcissa walks around. Sneers at the décor. Touches a red tapestry and then wipes her hands on her robes. “Gryffindors. Brave and honourable and painfully stupid. You think _I’m_ in control? Please. This is all you. You did something. As if I’d bring us _here_.”

Argh, she is so frustrating! “You did! You said you wanted to keep me safe! This is my safe place. It’s— get back here!”

Narcissa ignores her. Carries on towards the stairs. “Well I’m not staying here. Not with you in charge. No, I need to get control back. To wake up.”

Hermione runs after her up the stairs. “We both need to wake up! So if you’d just tell me how, then—”

Narcissa walks into a dormitory. “Let me guess. That’s your bed.” She points over at one. It is Hermione’s bed. How did she know?

Narcissa just smirks. Walks over. Casts a— cleaning charm?! Rude!

And lies down on it. Closes her eyes. Hermione slowly walks over to the foot of the bed. Umm…

Narcissa smiles. Opens her eyes. Scowls. “Fine. If I have to. Get over here, Granger.” She shifts sideways and pats the bed.

Hermione stomps around and sits next to her. “I don’t see why you’re being so rude. Just tell me what you’re doing. I’m only trying to help.”

Narcissa sighs. “Lie down. Just lie down next to me and be quiet. Close your eyes.”

Hermione does. Grudgingly. Teenage Narcissa has a bit of an attitude problem. And she’s bossy.

But her Narcissa is bossy too. She should be used to being told what to do.

She closes her eyes. _Well? Now what?_

_I said be quiet! Can you not follow even the simplest of instructions? I said not to leave. You left_

Really? Did she? Because Hermione doesn’t think so.

_Yes. I don’t see an eight-year-old around here, do you? You’re just like everyone else. You promise to stay, and then it gets too hard, or my legilimency is too much, and— just try to go to sleep, Granger_

She really thinks Hermione left her…

Hermione fumbles around blindly for Narcissa’s hand. “I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to, but you’re right. I left. Do…can you take me back to her?”

A thumb slowly rubs across her skin. “No. No, I cannot reach her. None of us can. Only you. For a moment I thought…never mind. It didn’t work. Just…well I thought this might help. Because we’re lying on your bed, are we not?”

Oh. Oh!

Hermione opens her eyes. Leans over to smile down at Narcissa. “Oh you’re so clever! Yes! Yes, so if we both lie in my bed and wake up…oh. But that doesn’t solve anything. We still haven’t fixed the problem. That’s why I’m here. To help.”

Narcissa folds her arms. Looks away. “I don’t need help. You’re just in the way. Someone else to look after. To protect from my mind. I’m not going to be your nanny elf and rescue a child at the same time.”

Nanny elf? Like a babysitter?! “Narcissa, look at yourself. You’re the child, not me.”

Narcissa’s mouth falls open and she sits up. “Child?! How dare you! I’m a fifth year! You’re…oh.”

She stops. Looks at Hermione. Ducks her head self-consciously. “You are older than me. How odd. There’s an adult witch in my bed! Your bed! Oh!”

Narcissa hastily backs off the bed and away across the room. Hermione laughs. “Just realised, have you? That’s unlike you. Not to be observant.”

Narcissa rubs her temples. “My mind was preoccupied. And it’s…confusing. Who I am. Why— you’re always the same. I change. I— I was so angry with you. For leaving. I wanted to push you. To shout at you. So I did. I don’t often shout. It’s not allowed. It’s— I’m so sorry, Miss Granger. I’ve behaved terribly. I…” She drifts off. Just kind of stares at Hermione, blue eyes travelling over her.

And then the eyes widen. “Oh no.”

Oh no? Oh no what? Don’t panic. That would be really bad. Don’t—

Narcissa gasps. “Sorry! It was just a thought, but I think— wake up! Quickly, Hermione, wake up!”

Hermione tries. She really does. But how can you wake up when you already feel wide awake?

She lies down on the bed. “Try again! Narcissa, get on the bed with me and try to wake us up. Come here.”

Narcissa frantically shakes her head. Her cheeks flush. “No! You’re going to make it worse! Oh no, I—”

And suddenly instead of staring up at a ceiling, Hermione can’t see anything. Pitch black. Where— what— and she can’t move her arms. She can’t—

…she’s not wearing any clothes.

A cold finger travels from the nape of her neck…all the way down her spine. She’s not in bed. She’s stood up.

And it’s not dark.

She’s wearing a blindfold.

“Narcissa?” Hermione whispers. Please be Narcissa. If this is anyone else, then that would be painfully awkward, and embarrassing, and—ow! Was that a stinging jinx?!

“Did I say you could talk?” Narcissa murmurs lowly.

Shit. Oh fuck. Oh what is… _Narcissa, what’s going on? Where are we? Why can’t I move?_

The touch falls away. Silence.

Complete silence.

Relashio! Come on, she has to get free. Finite incantatem!

Her arms still won’t move from her sides. She doesn’t have a wand.

She tilts her head back to look underneath the blindfold.

Narcissa. That is definitely Narcissa just stood there looking at her. Younger still, but not a teenager. Thirties?

_Narcissa, this isn’t real. It’s in your head. I’m trying to get home, we both are. And we need to help the younger version of yourself! Part of you is scared, and trapped—ow!_

The blindfold tightens. Her arms pressed more firmly to her sides.

“Trapped? No. No, I think that’s you. Not I. And if you want to leave…you’re going to have to follow my rules. Do you understand, Miss Granger?”

Oh. Rules. Trapped. Control.

Narcissa wasn’t in control. So she’s taking control.

In a rather sexual way. No denying that.

So…is Hermione supposed to let her? Or…to share the control somehow? Change her mind? Remind her that she’s safe? That they can do this together?

…How on Earth is this going to lead to them saving a child? It seems legilimency is all about connection. Emotion. Thoughts. Narcissa said legilimency was all about control…

The many layered mind. What had the book said? And what had Narcissa said about different kinds of thoughts and—

“Answer me. Yes or no. Do you understand? Do you consent to following my rules?”

Different thoughts…

Hermione clears her throat. “Before I can agree, I need to know what the rules are. And who you are. You told me that minds aren’t safe. I believe you. But I also trust you. The Narcissa I know. Which Narcissa am I talking to? Or are you— what kind of thought are you? Are you a primal thought? Is that it?”

Narcissa scoffs. “Please. Do not pretend to understand the mind. Your understanding is abysmal at best.”

Abysmal?! “I read the book you sent me! And I heard you thinking that I was doing well. Understanding the theory—uh.”

A hand is resting on her bare stomach. Just gently. Just there. Completely still.

Silence.

Hermione can’t stand it. Can feel the hairs on the back of her neck stand up as the tension builds.

Eventually she gives in and shifts her feet. Her weight. Feels the steady hand brush against her as she moves.

Narcissa hums quietly. “As I said. You know nothing. You believe me to be a primal thought? Nonsense. I’m controlled. I’m fully formed. I haven’t dragged you up against the nearest surface and ravaged your body with my tongue or my hand or my teeth. Torn you apart. That is primal. Blood, and sweat, and tears. Wordless cries echoing into the night.”

Oh. Hermione takes a sharp breath. Oh that’s…part of her wants go along with this. Lean into the touch. Agree to Narcissa’s rules.

But now isn’t the time. There’s a little girl trapped inside a nightmare. Time to break Narcissa out.

“That’s what you truly want?” Hermione whispers. Thinks about Malfoy Manor. “Deep down? You want me to cry? To bleed?”

Narcissa gasps in shock.

Hermione shivers as the heat from Narcissa’s body fades. She’s backed away.

“No!” A child’s voice squeaks. “We don’t want to hurt Hermione!”

“What is she doing here?!” Another voice hisses. “Get her out! Quickly!”

“What did you do?!” A third voice? How many voices— and are they all Narcissa?

“That’s it, little one, come along now.”

“You took her clothes?!”

“Did we hurt her?”

“Of course we didn’t hurt her! Why would we hurt Hermione? We love her.”

“Be quiet, imbecile!”

“Yes, don’t be absurd. We hold no such feelings for—”

“Everyone be quiet—!”

“Then why is she here?” An authoritative voice clips. “Come on. Admit it. Who called for her?”

Silence falls.

Now that definitely sounded like Narcissa.

Narcissa tuts. Continues. “Really? Nobody called her? I find that highly unlikely. Our mind has been shouting for days. And we’ve trapped her here. Quite literally, I might add. Someone release Hermione and find her some clothes.”

And Hermione breathes a sigh of relief as her arms free from her sides. And she’s wearing…

“A dress?” A voice scoffs. “Who put her in a dress?”

“Well _I_ think she looks very pretty.”

“You just want to take her to the _ball_.”

“So! Maybe I should! _You_ just want to fly around all day. And you got to fly _with_ her. It’s not fair. It would be so easy to go dancing. Instead we just have to be _sensible_ and look after silly little boys that can’t even dress themselves. Dromeda must be an awful grandmother if—”

How many Narcissas are there?! The thirteen-year-old. The teen with an attitude. The quidditch player. The three-year-old. Is— “Can someone take off my blindfold, please!” Hermione shouts.

Silence once more. And then heels tap towards her. The blindfold is removed.

Narcissa. Is this her Narcissa?

“We’re all Narcissa, imbecile,” a voice calls. “We’re only apart like this for you. It’s your mind that has separated us. So that we are more manageable. Obviously we’re too much for you all in one.”

Hermione glares at the smirking teenager. “I know. And you know I know. I just thought…” She looks back to the Narcissa stood in front of her. “You look…the same. The same age as now. I mean— are you?”

Narcissa shrugs. “I needed someone to take charge. Someone rational. Who would put your well-being first. I…am what appeared.”

Right. Okay. Okay so— they’re in some kind of large study, a desk and chair at the far end, a bookshelf, a window, and there’s… one, two, three, four, five Narcissas. The three-year-old isn’t here anymore.

She looks back at the Narcissa closest to her. “So if you’re in charge, if you caused yourself to be here…you appeared because _you_ needed it. Not me. I haven’t caused this. You’ve separated yourself.”

The quidditch player flies over. Spins upside down on their broom. Dangles by their legs. “Hermione’s right. We’re the legilimens. We’ve just brought her here. I say, we all go back where we’re supposed to be, and try to wake up again. That should work.”

A Narcissa sat at the desk and reading a healer’s journal flicks her wand, and the quidditch player is suddenly upright once more, hair neatened and sat side-saddle. “This is not a quidditch pitch. Retain some decorum, Miss Black. And that shan’t work. We were separate before, in our rightful places. And I don’t know about you, but I recall many a sleepless night.”

“But not anymore,” The thirteen-year-old smiles, moving away from her seat by the window and subtly edging closer. “We have Hermione now. I had a lovely sleep—ow!”

“Be quiet!” the grumpy teen hisses, dragging the thirteen-year-old away. “We don’t _have_ her. She isn’t _ours._ You’re so embarrassing!”

Hermione just stares. She’s still in shock, to be honest. All of…and interacting! Surely it isn’t normal for memories to be interacting?

The Narcissa closest to her, the eldest, sighs. “No. No this is highly unusual. To be this…separated. Conflicted. It shows great internal struggle. These past few weeks have been…hard. Wonderful, of course. Some wonderful moments. But…”

She reaches for Hermione’s hand. “I did tell you that opening up is difficult for me. That minds are fragile. Intimate. I must…trust you an awful lot to reveal all parts of myself to you in this manner.”

Oh.

She squeezes Narcissa’s hand. “Thank you. For trusting me. It means a lot. And I trust you too. All of you. I know you’d never hurt me so— where’s the Narcissa that was here earlier? Because I do trust all of you. I know she wouldn’t have hurt me. That she was just…well…teasing.”

All of the Narcissas seem to freeze at this, looking at each other awkwardly. Well. Not all of them awkwardly. The thirteen-year-old just looks confused. And both the other teenagers flush bright red.

“She…it was no longer her place to be here,” the eldest Narcissa eventually says slowly. “Children were present. She rightfully took her leave.”

So not primal, but that was definitely a sexual Narcissa. Is she ashamed of her sexuality? That doesn’t seem like her.

The Narcissa across the room at the desk snaps her book shut and walks over. “We’re not ashamed, no. It is just that each part of us has their own opinions and place. For example…”

She reaches Hermione. Leans forward before Hermione knows what is happening and kisses her chastely on the lips.

“What are you doing?!”

“You kissed her! I can’t believe you kissed her! You kissed a witch!”

“She could hardly consent to that!”

“We’ve kissed her before. Why not?”

“Well _I_ haven’t. It’s not fair. She thinks I’m too young.”

They all begin to argue back and forth. The Narcissa who kissed her reopens her book. “See? And that was just a kiss.”

Just a kiss.

But her lips are still tingling. They always do, when Narcissa kisses her. Even in her head, apparently.

Everyone falls silent. Turns to look at her. Oh dear. Having her thoughts projected to everyone in the room is…wait. Not projected. Not anymore. All of these Narcissas are just deliberately listening in!

The teenager rolls her eyes. “You’re in our head. Of course we’re listening to your thoughts. _You’re_ a thought. We’re thoughts. None of this is real. We’re…oh. Can anyone feel the bed anymore?”

Huh?

Oh. The real world.

Hermione closes her eyes. Tries to sense something. Anything. It feels…solid. A hard surface. And restrictive. She can’t move.

“Me neither,” the Narcissa who is in charge frowns. “I believe…” She tuts. “Can anyone see? Who has vision? Or any kind of aural—”

“ _…and I’m certainly no expert. Narcissa was the expert! Mind magic is an extremely specialised field. I’m not even a legilimens. But I see why you needed to bring them here. Hmm. Any suggestions for a mind specialist? A legilimens? I only knew of Severus Snape, but seeing as he’s no longer with us…”_

Podsley’s voice echoes through the room and then fades. The thirteen-year-old groans. “Perfect! We’ve sent ourselves to sleep with no one to wake us up. And we can’t even— Andromeda!” She shouts. “Someone think of Drommie!”

“They cannot hear you,” the quidditch player shrugs. “But do not worry. They’re bound to think of her. There aren’t that many legilimens in Britain. And Andromeda will find out about it herself from Teddy. She shall help us.”

The Narcissa with a book conjures a bookmark and looks up. “I’m afraid this may be too advanced a case for even Andromeda. She’s not nearly disciplined enough. Merely goes nosing around, drawn to interesting thoughts and memories. I doubt she could identify let alone retrieve the two of us from our mindscape.”

Great. Just great.

Well then.

Hermione nods. Walks across the room to the desk and imagines a pen and paper. “Then it’s up to us. The solution is obvious. You’re holding me in here. Not consciously, but somehow…and part of you is trapped. Wants to be rescued. So I need to go and find you. _I_ don’t know how the mind works. You’re right. But as Podsley said, _you’re_ the expert. So teach me. Show me how to go find you, and to not let you go this time. I didn’t mean to leave. I’m going back for you.”


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back!  
> Thanks for waiting so patiently, I might be updating a bit slower now, but the chapters will be longer if possible, so....  
> Here's a ridiculously long update!

Hermione sits down at the centre of the table, quill in hand. Ready to take notes.

Looks across the table at the five Narcissas, who are sat in age order, just to help her figure out who is who. She even numbers them in her head. One is the eldest.

The thirteen-year-old huffs and folds her arms. “Why can’t I be number one?” she pouts. Oops.

The eldest tuts. “That is unimportant now. What _is_ important is that we successfully guide Hermione to and from her destination. The…memory of Bella.”

Hermione feels her heart clench as all the Narcissas seem to shrink back. Curl in on themselves. Avoid eye contact.

She clears her throat. “Why don’t we call it...the Longbottom memory. Is that better?”

The eldest Narcissa smiles gratefully. “Yes. Yes, that will do nicely. So. You must find this memory, retrieve the fragment of myself that is trapped within it, and bring this fragment back here. It is safer here. More controlled. By me. I do not allow stray thoughts to…float in. Divert—”

The Narcissa to her right sighs. “She does not yet understand how this works. We need to break down— Hermione. To put it simply, the mind can be thought of in four aspects. Thought, memory, emotions, and bodily function. Of course, these are not separate. They are so interwoven that they cannot be seen as separate entities. I, myself, am the manifestation of the memories, thoughts, feelings and body that Narcissa had at one time in her life. My life. Our life—”

“That’s how you keep getting pulled everywhere,” the quidditch player interrupts from opposite Hermione. “We have control, mostly. You don’t. But you influence us. You produce an emotion…and it draws us into a memory. Or you create a thought, and the thought creates an emotion. You need to strategize. Think about the effect you want.”

“Exactly,” the thirteen-year-old smiles. “But don’t worry, you’re intelligent enough. You know us enough. It’s like…a chain. Follow the path to the…Longbottom memory. It’s…a frightening memory, but also…we need to feel safe enough to leave. To go with you.”

Hermione notes a few things down. Frowns. “A chain of thoughts. Yes, that makes sense. I did seem to jump to a different thought when you were scared or made a decision…so…”

She looks up. “Do you have an idea of a route to take? The best way?”

The Narcissas all turn to look at each other. They don’t speak, but they could just be using legilimency to talk. Wait. That’s strange. Why don’t they do that all the time? Can they hear _each other’s_ thoughts?

But they _are_ thoughts.

This is making Hermione’s head hurt.

The second eldest clears her throat. “There is no singular, certain path, because each scenario creates endless possibilities. Think of the thousands, millions of memories a person holds, and all of the thoughts contained within them. How many memories are contained within a singular emotion, and the subtleties of that emotion. A so called ‘happy’ memory could signify innumerable occasions. You shall have to adapt to each scenario. And…there is the possibility that…”

She drifts off. The grumpy teen steps in. “There’s another way. For you to get to the Longbottom memory. Because…well, it’s blocked off from us, isn’t it? But _we_ must have blocked it. Separated it. A part of Narcissa found it too difficult to cope with.”

Hermione frowns. “Yes. The eight-year-old. I met her, remember?”

The thirteen-year-old shakes her head. “The eight-year-old didn’t trap herself, Hermione. She wants to leave. She wants someone to go in and help her. No, there must be someone who doesn’t want to let _anyone_ in. Who closed it off tightly, and turned their back on it. Is ignoring it completely. She’d have to, to ignore the part of her trapped within. If you can find her…she might open the memory back up. Then we might all access it.”

A repressed memory. That’s what it is. That’s why Narcissa didn’t know what was keeping her awake.

So either Hermione has to access a repressed memory through association…or help Narcissa to open up herself.

Gosh. Hermione really wishes she’d read more about psychology before coming in here. What is it Narcissa always says? The mind is fragile.

What if she makes it worse? She could _hurt_ Narcissa. Damage her.

The quidditch player reaches across the table and squeezes Hermione’s hand. “Do not worry about that. It’s like you told me, _nobody can control everything. Nothing goes perfectly all the time. It’s impossible to always make the right decision. Nobody does. We just all do our best, and if we make a mistake, we try to fix it. Or ask for help. Or apologise. That’s all we can do._ See? You offer good advice. Just do what you can.”

Oh. She…memorised what Hermione told her?

So…do her best, and ask for help.

Hermione isn’t normally very good at _asking_ for help. She just helps other people. But this challenge is a bit intimidating, so she supposes…

She puts down her quill. Stands up. “Okay. I can do this. I’ll do what I can to help you, of course I will. But…can you come with me, somehow? Can you tell me where to start? Try to…keep track of me? Bring me back here if I’m hurting you? I don’t want to get this wrong.”

Once again, the Narcissas seem to discuss this. And then nod in unison. It’s quite eery.

The thirteen-year-old is the first one to walk around the table. Looks up at her. “We’ll help you. As much as we can. And we’re so sorry for doing this to you Hermione. Good luck.”

She stands up on her tiptoes, and shyly hugs Hermione. Quickly lets go and then…fades. Like a ghost. Her outline fading, floating over to the eldest Narcissa and…merging with her. Gone.

The grumpy teen marches over. Rolling her eyes. “She’s not gone, imbecile. She’s still here. This is Narcissa’s mind. Obviously.”

And then she ducks her head. Looks away. “You shouldn’t have to do this. But seeing as you are…well, just try not to mess up too badly. Don’t go looking at all our secrets just because you can. And don’t get distracted. Sometimes your brain is far too fast. It runs away from you.”

Hermione smiles and shakes her head in exasperation. Thanks, Narcissa. Such constructive advice. Said so nicely.

Hermione hugs this Narcissa too, squeezes her briefly even though she stays tense and awkward. “I’ll try to remember that. To stay on track. And don’t worry, whatever happens stays between us. Your secrets are safe.”

And Hermione stumbles forwards as this Narcissa disappears too.

And then stumbles backwards as the quidditch player launches at her, pulling her into a crushing hug. “You can do this, Hermione. Just be yourself. And if it gets to be too much, just think of your happy place. Or mine. I’ll fly in and grab you. I’ll always catch you. Like I promised.”

Hermione breathes out a sigh of relief. She believes that. It’s nice to know someone has her back. And can give her some straightforward advice. Imagine a happy place. Got it.

Narcissa presses a kiss to her cheek before pulling back. Winks. “Apologies. Couldn’t resist. See you, Granger.” And she grabs her broom, fading away.

Hermione smiles widely. She thinks that Narcissa is even cheekier than her own.

The next Narcissa tuts. She’s put her book down on the table and changed into healer’s robes. “Teenagers. Hormones abound.”

Hermione raises an eyebrow. “You’re the one who kissed me.”

This causes Narcissa to pause. And then shake her head. “For purely demonstrative purposes. Now, remember how you last accessed the Longbottom memory. A combination of…Teddy’s presence, and a fear. Fear of losing control. That is a large fear for us, so you need to direct it. Be specific. Otherwise, you may find yourself blindfolded once more. Or with yet another angst filled teen.”

Right. Narcissa was scared because she wasn’t in control of her legilimency. Of her legilimency going wrong. The same as with Mrs Longbottom.

Narcissa nods. “Correct. Focus on that memory. On Alice Longbottom. Try…it is probably wise to avoid Bella. You’ll be lead away into…childhood. The war. Your own…trauma.”

Oh. Yes. She will definitely be avoiding Bellatrix. The Manor. The past few days have helped a bit with putting her memories of Bellatrix into perspective, helping her face her boggart…but no. That would definitely not be ideal.

Hermione walks up to this Narcissa. She seems the most…logical. Less emotional. Maybe she can talk about… “Do you know what triggered the repressed memory? Which part of you might have hidden it? And how to convince the eight-year-old to leave with me? I don’t want her to disappear again.”

Narcissa clears her throat uncomfortably. Looks down at the table and traces a pattern with the tip of her finger. “Very good questions. I believe…there is one answer. When you led the eight-year-old away…you expressed a fear for your own safety. Reminded…me, of the dangers of legilimency. I did not wish to put you in danger. I wanted to protect you. So you were transported away. As I said, it’s all about control. Legilimency and mind magic is all I have ever known, so to be confronted with an alien mind, an illogical mind, confronted with— with my own sister destroying someone’s mind, leaving it in— broken and— I didn’t want that for you. For myself. Better to lose part of myself than to expose my whole being to…something tainted.”

Hermione doesn’t quite understand. Wants to know more. But at the same time…this Narcissa has paled. Is clenching her jaw. Trying to remain professional but…scared. Hands shaking.

Hermione gently takes her hand. Squeezes. “Thank you. For telling me. This is going to be challenging for both of us, but…it’s alright, Narcissa. We’ll face it together. I’m right here. In your head.”

Narcissa looks up at her sadly. Pulls her hand away. “And that is what is so terrifying…”

And she fades away. Another one gone.

Hermione turns to the last Narcissa. The eldest. The only one left. The one that looks like _her_ Narcissa. Not that— Narcissa doesn’t _belong_ to her. It’s just comforting to—

Narcissa smiles at her. Walks around the table to stand at her side. Takes her hand. “They are all still here. Within me. But yes. I’m _your_ Narcissa. We decided to move past our differences, and show you a united front. And we won’t leave you. Wherever you go, we shall be there. Right here. Within whichever Narcissa you encounter. Watching. Doing what we can to influence the situation. Are you ready, Darling?”

Hermione smiles to herself. Darling. “Yes. Yes, I’m ready to save you. My angry angel. You’ve protected me for long enough. Let me out of here now. Let me help you.”

Narcissa laughs. “Then my mind is yours. I apologise in advance. Of you go, Hermione. Close your eyes. Tell me what you want.”

Hermione closes her eyes. Bites her lip. Oh dear. her thoughts almost drifted straight away. She needs to stop that. Concentrate. Direct her thoughts.

Okay. Off she goes. Find that child. Find the memory.

* * *

In a way, this is a bit like apparition. Remember the three Ds. Destination, determination, deliberation. So. Alice Longbottom. The Longbottom’s kitchen. She’s determined to go there. She can remember how it felt to lie on that floor. Can picture the scared eight-year-old that she wants to save.

Thoughts, emotion, memory and body. She has the memory of it. Has already embodied it. The emotion was…feeling that her legilimency was out of control. Distorted.

Destination, determination, deliberation. Careful, but sure.

She takes a breath…and opens her eyes.

Oh dear.

She’s at Hogwarts, a chill in the air and stone under her feet as she makes her way down into the dungeons. How? Why? And—

That’s the grumpy teen. Nose in the air as she sneers at everyone. Hermione at her side. But that’s not what attracts Hermione’s attention.

It’s the thoughts. Everywhere. Everyone’s thoughts.

_…so late!…_

_fucking cold…_

_herbology essay?!...._

_ice bitch…pureblood…_

_Black…sister?..._

_trip her…new hex…_

_sleekeasy potion…_

_frigid…_

_slut…_

_potions partner…_

_Sally’s birthday…common room…Hogsmeade…_

_Evans and Potter?_

_…Malfoy…_

Hermione tries to ignore all the whispers. Jogs to keep up with Narcissa as they reach a long corridor. “Narcissa? Are you alright? I didn’t really mean to come here, but—”

“Black! Hey, Black! Narcissa!”

Hermione stops and turns around. Narcissa doesn’t. Ignores the person calling after her and carries on towards potions.

Is that…Alice Longbottom? Ah. So that’s why Hermione ended up here.

And why does Narcissa have to be so rude?

Hermione catches up with Narcissa again and grabs her elbow. “Alice is calling for you. She’s waving a piece of parchment. Maybe you dropped it.”

Narcissa flinches. Whirls to face Hermione. “What are you doing here? You’re not supposed to be here. And I’m not supposed to stop. Let me go.”

Oh. Oops. This feels like a memory. So maybe Narcissa _isn’t_ supposed to stop.

Alice catches up with them, out of breath but smiling. She looks so much like Neville.

Umm…now what?

Alice ignores Hermione completely. “Finally! Damn you walk fast, Black. Here. From your cousin.”

Sirius?

Narcissa looks at the piece of parchment suspiciously. Hermione doesn’t blame her. Marauders and parchment.

 _Shoot. She’s not going to even read it. There goes the plan,_ comes Alice’s thoughts through the air.

Narcissa freezes. Sneers. “He is not my cousin. Not anymore. Now leave me be.”

And she turns on her heel. Walks away from Alice without a backward glance. How…

Why is Hermione even here? She should leave. But how? A chain…

“Narcissa! Wait!” Alice shouts. “Black!”

Alice looks…sad. Disappointed.

Hermione has a look over Alice’s shoulder at the piece of parchment. Oh…

A party? Sirius wants to know if Narcissa will come to a party in the Gryffindor Common Room?

Did that happen?

Whoa!

Hermione steadies her feet on polished floor. In a grand ballroom. Couples twirl past her. Oh dear. She isn’t even at Hogwarts anymore. Is…that a young Sirius? He’s tiny! How old is, twelve?!

“Hermione!” a voice hisses from behind a curtain.

Hermione hurries over. Brushes it aside and peeks around to…of course.

The thirteen-year-old grins at her. “You came to the ball! I hoped you would. Now I may dance with you, and not _Goyle._ Goyle, can you imagine? How dreadful. Come. Dance with me. This is my memory, so— oh! I forgot!”

Narcissa step out from behind the curtain. Takes Hermione’s hand and bows. Kisses her knuckles. “Miss Granger, would you do me the honour of joining me in this dance?”

Oh. Oh she is so adorable! How can Hermione say no?

Narcissa stamps her foot. “I’m not _adorable_! I’m charming. That is exactly how to ask a lady to dance, not that _you_ would know.”

Hermione raises an eyebrow. “Charming, you say? Because that was quite rude. Maybe I’ll dance with Sirius instead—ah!”

And Hermione is on the other side of the ballroom. The music has changed. And Narcissa has disappeared.

Except she hasn’t. That’s her, over there, whispering with another girl. But she’s wearing a different dress to before. And she’s older. Sixteen, maybe. This is harder than Hermione thought. Another memory?

And Hermione watches as a wizard approaches the two witches.

No. Not just a wizard. Sirius. He nods to Narcissa. There’s a brief conversation that Hermione is too far away to hear. And then…

He bows to Narcissa’s friend, fluid and charming. Takes her hand. Kisses it. Escorts her onto the dance floor as she smiles at him.

And Narcissa is left alone. Watches them, with an expression of…of…

Oh. Not just a friend then. Not with that look on Narcissa’s face. The way her jaw clenches and a harsh breath floods out of her.

Narcissa turns to leave. To disappear into the crowd.

Hermione finds her feet carrying her over before she can stop herself. “Excuse me! Miss Black!”

Narcissa stops. Turns and frowns at her. Sniffs. “What are _you_ doing here? Haven’t you got an eight-year-old to save?”

Hermione just shakes her head. And then awkwardly bows. Takes Narcissa’s hand. “I have you to save. And I really should be going. But…can I save a dance with you? For later? When this is all over…would you do me the honour of joining me for a dance?”

Narcissa’s lip twitches into a smile. “I suppose I might add you to my dance card, Miss Granger. If you promise not to step on my toes.”

Hermione smiles back. “No promises. I never said I could dance. But I’d like to dance with you.”

Narcissa laughs. “Fine. I’ll make an exception for you, Granger. Now get going. You’re in completely the wrong—Mr Malfoy.”

Hermione stumbles out of the way as Lucius Malfoy appears from nowhere and almost walks through her.

“Narcissa, good evening. You are looking as lovely as ever. I apologise for keeping you waiting. Shall we?”

He holds out his hand, and Narcissa transforms. Straightens her spine. Her smile stretches. Eyes calculating rather than warm as she takes his hand with the tips of her fingers. “No apologies necessary, Mr Malfoy, I assure you. You are certainly worth the wait. And I would never think of keeping you from your work.”

Lucius smirks pompously. “Indeed? Now that is very good to hear. A witch with a head on her shoulders. And please, I’ve told you, call me Lucius.”

Narcissa moves closer to him. Ducks her head. “I’m sure your work at the Ministry is far above my comprehension, but I have heard from Father that it is going well for you…and from Mother that you are a marvellous dancer. Is there nothing you cannot do, my dear?”

Lucius laughs. “Not that I have yet encountered. And I have heard the same of you. You are far too modest. I don’t quite believe that innocent look, Narcissa.”

Narcissa turns just slightly. Meets Hermione’s eye and sighs resignedly. Briefly shakes her head. _Go, Hermione. Go find me. Return us to the present. You shouldn’t be here_

Hermione knows she should go. But she can’t quite tear her eyes away. Can’t help watching the inevitable happen. Here it comes. She’s sure of it.

Time for Narcissa step onto that path to Lucius Malfoy.

Narcissa sighs again. _Quite right_

And once again Narcissa changes. Transforms before her eyes. Looks up at Lucius Malfoy in determination. Smile sharp and eyes gleaming.

Stands on her toes to whisper to him. “I may be innocent, my dear, but I’m not naïve. And you are quite right. We are very much alike. There is nothing that I cannot do. Together, we’ll be unstoppable. The perfect pair. Can you deny it? Is there a single witch in this room, in this country, that matches me? Name her. If she exists, name her. And if not, dance with me, now and forever. A Malfoy and a Black. A Slytherin King and Queen. We’ll rule them all. Have everything we ever wanted and _more_.”

Lucius grins. Looks Narcissa over with greedy eyes. “A queen like no other. What a proposal. Oh there is certainly no matching you. Come, my dear. Lets dance." He arches an eyebrow. "Now, and forever.”

And Hermione closes her eyes. Feels her heart sink. For Narcissa or herself, she isn’t sure.

Just a memory. Narcissa is divorced.

But she chose him…

It wasn’t a choice. Not really. It wasn’t love. It was an alliance. Now focus. The Longbottom memory. That’s your goal. Fear. How can she move along the chain to…

Right now, Narcissa must be repressing her feelings, surely! She just walked off to dance with Lucius. But she wanted to dance with Hermione. Or with that witch that left earlier. She’s suppressing her feelings. Just like she’s boxed up the Longbottom memory.

So focus on that feeling. A memory that’s hidden away. Closed off. Too painful to look at.

Hermione cautiously opens her eyes. Oh. Shit.

Sat on the floor of a bathroom with Bellatrix Lestrange.

Hermione’s heart rate skyrockets, and she scrambles backwards across the tile floor, back hitting into a sink. She’s trapped. The room’s so small, and—

Bellatrix pouts at Narcissa. Ignores Hermione completely. “Cissy, I’m fine. Stop fussing and— ow!”

“You’re not _fine_ , Bella. Now stay still. I cannot believe you let him do this to you! Do you have any idea how _dark_ —”

“It’s an honour!” Bellatrix hisses. And then hisses again in pain as Narcissa presses a cloth to her forearm. “And it’s genius, Cissy. A protean charm this advanced? We can call on one another at a moment’s notice. No distance too far. Forever connected.”

Narcissa sighs. “Yes. Forever,” she says softly.

Oh gods. Is this…the Dark Mark?

Hermione edges closer, calmer now that she’s remembered Bellatrix can’t see her. And that…well she’s so young! Younger than Hermione, face round with youth. And her arm looks so sore. Red. Swollen. She seems small, curled up on the floor next to Narcissa, heads pressed together.

Bellatrix tilts her head to frown at Narcissa in confusion. Searches her face.

And then smiles. Throws her other arm over Narcissa’s shoulder. “Oh little Cissy. Are you jealous? Scared? That I’ll be with him forever? I’m not going anywhere, you know. You’ve got me forever too. We’re family. As if I’d ever leave you. Besides, I wouldn’t be able to get away. You’re the only person breaking down my bathroom door. Even Rod doesn’t dare come into my side of the house. You’ve got guts, kid.”

Narcissa scoffs. “Bella, I’m not a child anymore. And of course I’m not jealous. I’m just worried for you! His magic is _connected_ to yours. It’s in your veins.”

Bellatrix grins. “I know, brilliant, right? I can feel it. The power. Or…well, I will. Once it stops throbbing like a bitch, fucking hell.”

Narcissa presses the cloth back with an exasperated groan. “Oh you are hopeless! I _knew_ it hurt. Just tell me, and I shall find you a salve. A potion. Your diagnostic spell was extremely worrying, Bella.”

Bellatrix shrugs. Leans sideways against Narcissa, legs splayed on the floor. “Think you did it wrong. You’re not exactly a professional healer. I’m alright, Ciss. But I’ll try one of your weird salves, if you want.”

Narcissa smiles brightly. Squeezes Bellatrix’s shoulder and stands up. “Then I’ll be right back. Do not move. And no magic, Bella. Just wait two minutes. I’ll be right back.”

Bellatrix looks up at Narcissa with a…fond expression. Eyes crinkling in amusement. She chuckles. Not her usual laugh. Deeper. Softer. “I’m not going anywhere. Go get your potions, little healer. I’ll wait.”

And the scene…freezes. Or Bellatrix does.

Narcissa…grows older. Her robes become lime green. Healer’s robes.

She crouches back down next to Bellatrix. Cups her face. _I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Bella. I didn’t heal you. Nothing I did made a difference. It was too late. And I know you thought you stayed…but you didn’t. You left me. My sister died a long time ago…_

Hermione feels tears prick in her eyes. A lump form in her throat. She hates this. Knowing the future isn’t even a comfort. Narcissa’s whole life just seems so tragic. It’s not fair. And no one seems to notice. To pay any attention to her. To be there for her.

Except Hermione.

She can do that.

_Narcissa? Narcissa, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry you lost your sister. But it wasn’t your fault, it’s alright. It was out of your hands. You did all you could_

Narcissa breathes out shakily. Lets go of Bellatrix. “You’re certain? Because I’m not so sure, Hermione. I _knew_ something was…I should have saved her. Made her see sense.”

Hermione crawls over. Gently pulls Narcissa into her arms. Rubs her back and strokes her hair. “Not your fault. I— well I don’t know your sister, but…make her? I don’t think anyone could have made her do anything. Impossible. She was…an unstoppable force. We all knew that. She chose her path.”

Narcissa presses her face into Hermione’s neck. Tears fall. _I miss her. I miss my sister. It’s not fair. I loved her, and she died, and people were happy. I was happy. I was relieved. I hated watching her fade away. How could I— I— I loved her, and I hated her. And now she’s gone. And— and she’s been forgotten. How she was before. She’ll forever be Bellatrix Lestrange. Mad, and violent, and vicious, and terrifying. Not— not like this_

Hermione holds her close. Watches with held breath as Bellatrix unfreezes next to them. Crosses her legs and looks at her arm curiously. Touches it and curses to herself. Tucks a stray curl behind her ear. She doesn’t seem to see Narcissa either now. “You listening to my thoughts again, Cissy?” Bellatrix murmurs. Smiles. “Cheeky little witch. You should be careful going into my head. Softly softly, little sister. Minds are fragile. I keep mine away from you for a reason.”

Bellatrix traces over the Mark again. Bites her lip. Sighs. “Because I don’t want you getting hurt. That’s why. Now hurry up and come back. I’m dying here.”

Narcissa shudders in Hermione’s arms. _Enough. Please, Hermione. Take me away_

Yes. Yes, time to go. There’s nothing to be done here.


End file.
